Time is money.
Time is of the essence.
Time is brief; time is long. Time is milliseconds, seconds, minutes, quarter-hours, half-hours, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millenniums. Time is never enough. Time is almost enough. Time is too much.
Time is valuable in saving a human life; every second counts. Time is music; time is the Mozart requiem, the Faure requiem, every coronation mass ever composed.
Time is the greatest of ideas left unwritten. Time is words left untyped, left to rot in the deepest archives of the mind, the darkest storage corridors left neglected for years and gathering dust. Time is books left half-written and abandoned by dead authors decaying in their graves, misunderstood and revered by many.
Time is wasted opportunities; dresses and peacoats left unbought and hanging on racks which also gather dust, moving to clearance racks and having their prices marked down; time is 15% clearance, 50%, 70%. Time is people walking by, oblivious of the sales, unaware of the money (and in the process, time) that could be saved. Time is designer clothes: the trends changing each month, each season, each year, never to revert back to the same style. Time is the same style repeated and recycled, refurbished to look new.
Time is killed, spent, wasted, thrown away, uncared for. Time is precious, valuable, never to be earned again. Time under-appreciated, unloved, unknown for its true benefits. Time is loved. Time is love.
Time is also hate, anger, fear. Time heals all wounds.
Time cures diseases. Time banishes hangovers. Time is a terminal illness spreading like wildfire across a ravaged body. Time is death.
Time is life.
Time is something unseen, yet ever-lingering.
Time is time until the end of it.