"You're interested in time?"— from The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August, by Claire North.
"Complexity and simplicity," he replied. "Time was simple, is simple. We can divide it into simple parts, measure it, arrange dinner by it, drink whisky to its passage. We can mathematically deploy it, use it to express ideas about the observable universe, and yet if asked to explain it in simple language to a child — in simple language which is not deceit, of course — we are powerless. The most it ever seems we know how to do with time is waste it."
So saying, he raised his glass in salute to me, and drank it down, though I found suddenly that I was not in a drinking mood.