I call the process “Revival.” I usually go back between one and five minutes. 

 I like being part of a team, man. 

 What you have to do to traverse a wormhole is have two openings. What we did tonight is open one end of it. 

 “There is no Time machine,” it says. “We are not supposed to be here but our Time line pinched and we are in big trouble unless you can help.” 

 You’re going to feel apart from other people. That doesn’t go away. 

1. Married women—Fiction.
2. Physicists—Fiction.
3. Quantum theory—Fiction.

 He can read her face, and can tell that she agrees the opinion that he himself is too politic to speak aloud: that the papers being delivered today are not that good. They are not very interesting. They are parsimoniously doled out fingernail parings of thought, bloated into full length by badly written prose and extensive recapitulations of material with which an audience of this kind would already be familiar. They are evidence that the desire to bide one’s time in order to do good science has be sublimated to the constant drive to publish; as the saying goes, the committees that hand out funds and grand tenure cannot read, but they can count. 

 No-ma-chine! No-ma-chine! 

 He is an old man at her birth, a youth at her third birthday party, and a fifty-something when he walks her to her first day of kindergarten. 

 Dad, do you think time travel is possible? 

 What should you do if a mosasaur comes up out of the sewer and into your bathroom? 

 His story was ridiculous, but he really did look like me plus twenty years, and he knew things about me that nobody else could know. 

 Coulson: Like, in Terminator, if John Connor’s alive and able to send his friend back in time to save his mom to make sure he’s born, doesn’t that mean he doesn’t have to?
Lincoln: I, uh, never saw the original Terminator.
Coulson: You’re off the team. 

 My father set a time trap? 

 Of course, that thought immediately slipped her mind when she turned on the news and saw the main story for the day: time travel had been discovered. 

 Jim: We have a time machine. We have a time machine! None of this has to happen, okay? Somebody goes back and they warn us not to come. So whoever the killer is, he doesn’t get to kill anybody, not today.
Bubbles: Yeah, that’s good.
Gale: Yeah.
Randy: No, we can’t do that. We’ll cause a paradox! 

 It’s not a game, and it’s not a dream. I can time-travel. Clint can. Bruce, too, when he’s not writing on the ground, and apparently so can you. 

 The past is written; the ink is dry. 

 Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. 

 We’ve got a reactant coolant leak! 

 Correct, little algorithm, but we are not in your present. We transmitted ourselves by tachyons into the past, back into the stelliferous period, to one of the first galaxies. We have been working here in the morning of the Universe for twelve million years. 

 “The odd ones from the future and the past,” she said, matter-of-factly. “The ones who taught us that the past and future are not one simple path but more like a basket full of loose threads. And all these threads are strung together with different starting points and different events, like knots, along the threads.” 

 Ruptures in space time . . . quantum [gobbledygook] . . . not linear. 

 . . . and a grandmother of three writes her suicide note in the same room that Helen is talking to her therapist, who says that the human mind is a primate one, that we are drawn to the exciting and the new and gloss over the day to day lest we go insane in the details, and the first mammals crawl into and from the trees . . . 

 The Bush bust passed through the vortex, catching fire through friction as it shot through time. 

 Do not worry if one of your quantum selves accidentally “kills” your grandfather in a lovers’ quarrel over your grandmother’s affections. Remember, when the wave function collapses, only one of your selves will be “real.” Simply reset your parricidal self and move on. 

 “We exist within a glitch of the space-time continuum,” he said, hands flailing, “and are doomed to relive this exact moment, this exact conversation, forever.” 

 I felt like something was being stripped away from me. From inside. Like something was being unwound. I don’t know it that’s the right way to explain it. I couldn’t explain it. It was just one of those feelings without a name. 

 The mists are time itself, or at least time as it exists here. 

 ♫If I had my time again, I would do it all the same, they say, but that’s insane—surely you’d want to make a couple of fixes!♫ 

 You have a time machine and you’re not doing anything important or helping anyone. All you’re doing messing with me. 

 I am the most powerful witch in the world, and you are armed with a snowball. Do you know what that means? 

 I already tried that. 

 Faster than light travel makes it possible to send an observer out and back before he left. 

 Lucy? What the hell has gotten into you? And who’s Amy? 

 When all was quiet, he walked into the future in his dreams. He saw these Turtle Men at a village like his mother's, perhaps his mother's village. All villages met the same fate. 

 Two months earlier, the time traveler had appeared, and taught Leo the mourner’s Kaddish. 

 The closest I can come to the giant spider’s name is Mmdhf. She loves to talk philosophy. 

 We, the last and broken memories, vow to undo the errors of our ancestors, to make the Earth whole, the lost unlost, at the peril of our own birth. 

 Perfection, of any kind, was an error. 

 Or is it the first— 

 He’s a human freak as far as I’m concerned. Whatever I think of him, it doesn’t affect my work. 

 Nearly every object of art and entertainment is different in thisworld. Early on, the variations aren't that significant. But as the late 1960s gave way to the vast technological and social leaps of the 1970s, almost everything changed, generating decades of pop cuylture that never existed—fifty years of writers and artists and muscians creating an entirely other body of work. 

 Offered for private sale is a gold watch engineered to allow the discriminating Gentleman the opportunity to experience time in a new way. This is a one-of-a-kind item. Serious inquiries only. Reply to Box 154 at this newspaper. 

 After seeing that Peppermint Patricia wrapper, I knew that any society that could mix two separate flavors like mint and chocolate is more open-minded than I could ever fathom. We must start this revolution so that the women of the future can feel the freedom that I felt in those brief moments. 

 It’s inevitable: Science and technology will advance beyond all imagination, forcing society to perfect itself. Imagine who you could be if you didn’t live in fear. Or more importantly, imagine the stories you could write if your life was full of adventure. 

 She turned and slapped him hard across the face. 

 But they hadn’t existed at the time of Herod the Great. And they hadn’t captured Masada until—what, 66 CE? 

 She’s thirty-six but has felt the same inside since fifteen, when she’d read a pulp magazine and knew with absolute certainty what she wanted to do with her life. 

 Nagkmur finds a chronology on the Internet and searches out a year halfway between the present and their encounter in sixth century Constantinople. The quickest way to identify when things went awry, he tells her, is to work by halves. If AD 1300 is undisturbed, the change came later; otherwise, earlier. 

 It’s not anything fatal. You know it can’t be anything fatal, because if it was, thent here would be no future self who could be sent back to warn you. 

 Fifty percent of snatchers don’t return from their first. Why? Because time is a malevolent killer that tries to eradicate us when we jaunt. But you know all that. 

 His second attempt had not been so subtle, a handgun and cartridges smuggled past Time Adventures people who didn’t even bother to check his luggage. 

 You know you’ve got the wrong equation for closed timelike curves, right? 

 “So, what exactly is a time loop?” I ask, on a wet winter’s night, as I take my shoes off and recline on the professor’s sofa. 

 I told him I was going to be a king in Medieval Times, and here I am getting rich. 

 You warned us you'd be difficult. 

 Hey, pull up the article from April 2018, where they found that airplaine using LIDAR. 

 ♫Speak in a language they don’t know
It don’t matter now♫ 

 If punching Nazis is punishable by death, you’ve arrived too early. 

 What I can’t do is change anything. I can’t change the course of history. I can’t make it so that things work out. Every universe exists complete from the start. It’s all already happened. 

 You are sending me back in time . . . ah, well, not you—God! 

 Your novels are popular now, but in time your work will become even more esteemed . . . more valuable . . . than you can ever know. 

 You’re from the future and it’s very important you talk to the mayor right now about a horrible threat that we have to avert. 

 When we get to my century, I'll introduce you to Amelia Earhart. 

 What do you get when a Neanderthal, a Denisovan, and a Red Deer Cave sit down around a table together? 

 If only I had never known, I could have been happier. 

 When Ruby left for school yesterday it was 2017 but when she returned home in the afternoon she was from 1968.
   I know this to be the case as Ruby informed me that the “girls” in Year 6 would be attending the school library to get their hair and make-up done on Monday afternoon while the “boys” are going to Bunnings [hardware store]. 

 It's as if you've seen the future.