You will never find time for anything. If you want time you must

The words of Charles Buxton—“You will never find time for anything. If you want time you must make it.”—resound like the strike of a bell in the stillness of dawn. They are a call to awaken from illusion, for many drift through life believing that time will one day appear, freely given, like a treasure discovered in the dust. But Buxton, a man of industry and purpose, knew the truth: time is not found—it is forged. It is carved out with intention, wrestled from the chaos of days, and guarded with vigilance. To wait for time is to wait for eternity, for it will never come unbidden.

The ancients too understood this principle. Marcus Aurelius, emperor and philosopher, lamented that men guard their wealth but squander their hours, failing to see that time is the greater treasure. To live well, he wrote, is to discipline oneself to use the present moment with purpose. Buxton’s words carry that same wisdom: no king, no prophet, no sage has ever been granted extra hours in a day. All receive the same allotment, yet the difference between greatness and obscurity lies in how one chooses to make time for what matters.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci. His mind soared across art, science, and invention, yet he too knew the pressure of fleeting hours. He filled his notebooks with drawings and ideas, not because time was abundant, but because he seized it relentlessly. Each sketch, each experiment was carved from hours that might have been lost to idleness. Had he waited for time to “appear,” the works that shaped human history would never have been born. His genius lay not only in vision, but in discipline—he made time serve him, rather than serve it.

So too in the struggles of modern history. Think of Nelson Mandela, who endured twenty-seven years in prison. He might have cursed those lost decades, but instead he made time within his cell to read, to reflect, to prepare his soul for leadership. When freedom came, he was ready not because he had found time, but because he had created purpose within the little he was given. His life is a testament that even in chains, one can carve out the hours that shape destiny.

Beloved listener, the meaning is clear: to wait for time is to surrender your life to chance. Days slip like sand through the fingers, and if you do not seize them, they vanish into nothingness. If you wish to write, to love, to build, to dream—you must make time, not tomorrow, but now. Rearrange your days, cast aside what is trivial, and guard your hours as a warrior guards his shield. For in time lies the substance of your very existence, and to waste it is to waste yourself.

Practical wisdom demands this: rise earlier, if need be. Turn from distractions that devour your hours. Set boundaries, that you may protect what matters most. Dedicate time to the pursuits that kindle your soul, whether they be art, service, love, or learning. Remember always: no one has ever stumbled upon spare hours lying by the roadside. They are forged, crafted, created by those who know their worth.

So let Buxton’s words burn within your heart: “You will never find time for anything. If you want time you must make it.” Be the maker of your time, the architect of your days, the master of your moments. Do not live as one swept away by the current, but as one who steers the vessel of his life with steady hand. For the measure of your time is the measure of your life—and to make time is to make destiny.