Quotes About Time

For a good ten minutes or so we stand there with the flashlight burning the grave with light. The whole time, I'm trying to guess where and exactly how he died and, more to the point, realizing that poor old Milla's been without him for sixty-years. I can tell. No other man has entered her life. Not the way her Jimmy did. She's been waiting sixty years for Jimmy to come back. And now he has.

That makes two weeks, she would later write in the basement. Two weeks to change the world, and fourteen days to ruin it.

Uyan?k geçirdiÄŸi zamanlarda saatler tepesinde dikiliyor, onu y?pratmakta kesinlikle tereddüt etmiyorlard?. Gülümseyerek can?n? ç?kar?yor ama sonra da yaÅŸamas?na izin veriyorlard?. Bir ÅŸeyin yaÅŸamas?na izin vermekte ancak bu kadar art niyet olabilirdi.

Ha dejado que la ame durante tres minutos. «¿Pueden tres minutos durar eternamente?», me pregunto pese a conocer la respuesta. «Probablemente no —contesto—. Pero tal vez duren lo suficiente.»

Puedo quedarme, Ed? Me acerco. —Claro que puedes quedarte esta noche. —Pero menea la cabeza y sus ojos finalmente se centran. Da un paso al frente y alarga un brazo. —No quiero decir esta noche —aclara—. Quiero decir para siempre.

So many people chased after me in that time, calling my name, asking me to take them with me. Then there was the small percentage who called me casually over and whispered with their tightend voices.

Apesadumbrada, se dio cuenta de que los relojes no suenan a nada que se parezca siquiera a un tictac, sino al ruido que hace un martillo, arriba y abajo, golpeando una y otra vez contra el suelo. El sonido de una sepultura.

There was no recovery from what had happened. That would take decades; it would take a long life.

For a few moments, Liesel said nothing. It was one of those conversations that require some time to elapse between exchanges.

was January 1939.

If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter and bread with only the scent of jam spread out on top of it. It was the best time of her

Many jocular comments followed, as did another onslaught of Heil Hitlering. You know, it actually makes me wonder if anyone ever lost an eye or injured a hand or wrist with all of that. You'd only need to be facing the wrong way at the wrong time, or stand marginally too close to another person.

People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.

The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugliness and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.

I listened to their last, gasping cries. Their vanishing words. I watched their love visions and freed them from their fear. I took them all away, and if ever there was a time I needed distraction, this was it.

The minutes were cruel. Hours were punishing. Standing above him at all moments of awakeness was the hand of time, and it didn't hesitate to wring him out. It smiled and squeezed and let him live. What great malice there could be in allowing something to live.

I'm compelled to continue on, because although it's not true for every person on earth, it's true for the vast majority—that death waits for no man—and if he does, he doesn't usually wait very long.

I took them all away, and if ever there was a time I needed distraction, this was it. In complete desolation, I looked at the world above. I watched the sky as it turned from silver to gray to the color of rain. Even the clouds were trying to get away.

Oamenii observ? culorile unei zile numai la sfârÅŸit ÅŸi la început, dar pentru mine este destul de clar c? ea combin? o multitudine de nuanÅ£e ÅŸi tonuri, cu fiecare moment care trece. O singur? or? poate consta în mii de culori diferite.

The word maybe was beginning to annoy me, because the only thing that was fixed was that maybe would be with me for ever. Maybe

A human doesn't have a heart like mine. The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both. Still, they have one thing I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.

He was hanging from one of the rafters in a laundry up near Frau Diller's. Another human pendulum. Another clock, stopped.

That would make two weeks, she would later write in the basemen. Two weeks to change the world, and fourteen days to ruin it.

They accumulated, hour by hour, like sweet and sour dreams, waiting to happen.