But neither do we this way obtain any
certain measure of time; because it may be, that a shorter verse,
pronounced more fully, may take up more time than a longer, pronounced
hurriedly. And so for a verse, a foot, a syllable. Whence it seemed to
me, that time is nothing else than protraction; but of what, I know
not; and I marvel, if it be not of the mind itself? For what, I
beseech Thee, O my God, do I measure, when I say, either
indefinitely "this is a longer time than that," or definitely "this is
double that"? That I measure time, I know; and yet I measure not
time to come, for it is not yet; nor present, because it is not
protracted by any space; nor past, because it now is not. What then do
I measure? Times passing, not past? for so I said.
Courage, my mind, and press on mightily. God is our helper, He
made us, and not we ourselves. Press on where truth begins to dawn.
Suppose, now, the voice of a body begins to sound, and does sound, and
sounds on, and list, it ceases; it is silence now, and that voice is
past, and is no more a voice.
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