Time itself flows on with constant motion, just like a river: for no more than a river can the fleeting hour stand still. As wave is driven on by wave, and, itself pursued, pursues the one before, so the moments of time at once flee and follow, and are ever new.
OvidI could not possibly count the gold-digging ruses of women, Not if I had ten mouths, not if I had ten tongues.
Ovid