the cement wall of the clumsy calendar I live in, my life, and its hauled up notebooks.
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Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigour. With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life.
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Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigour. With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life.
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According to the 2000 year old Mayan prophecies, the world will end on the 21th of December 2012 (the winter solstice). This is the date where the very sophisticated Mayan calendar ends and the human race will perish. Earth will rebel against mankind which have turned arrogant, ignoring the holy values and disturbing the balance of nature.
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and you'll bargain with the calendar and at the last moment...
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I have always thought of Christmas time as a good time. A kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time. The only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely
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Ethics and equity and the principles of justice do not change with the calendar.
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Queer little twists go into the making of an individual. To supress them all and follow clock and calendar and creed until the individual is lost in the neutral grey of the host is to be less than true to our inheritance.... Life, that gorgeous quality of life, is not accomplished by following another man's rules. It is true we have the same hungers and same thirsts, but they are for different things and in different ways and in different seasons.... Lay down your own day, follow it to its noon, your own noon, or you will sit in an outer hall listening to the chimes but never reaching high enough to strike your own.
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But I am sure that I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round...as a good time a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely.
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To divide one's life by years is of course to tumble into a trap set by our own arithmetic. The calendar consents to carry on its dull wall-existence by the arbitrary timetables we have drawn up in consultation with those permanent commuters, Earth and Sun. But we, unlike trees, need grow no annual rings.
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Although there is a very large literature, still growing almost daily, on the Chinese calendar, its interest is, we suggest, much more archaeological and historical than scientific.
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The only calendar I need is just outside my window. With eyes to see and ears to hear, nature keeps me posted.
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I was so hoping my beloved Saints would get there but I'm still thrilled to be part of one of the great days on the Australian sports calendar.
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Warning: Dates on calendar are closer than they appear.
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We must not allow the clock and the calendar to blind us to the fact that each moment of life is a miracle and mystery.
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I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult his calendar.
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I value the friend who for me finds time on his calendar, but I cherish the friend who for me does not consult the calendar.
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Don't be fooled by the calendar. There are only as many days in the year as you make use of. One man gets only a week's value out of a year while another man gets a full year's value out of a week.
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