Quotes About Time

Memories--even the best of them--faded.

Hello?" 'It's me. I'm having a crisis.' "I'll be there in twenty minutes.

But how did you do that? How did two people move backward through time and untie a knot that had tangled through every moment of their lives?

You know what else is forever?" "Dirty diapers." Kate reached out for Tully's hand, noticing how cold her friend's skin was. How could she convince Tully that this was the Y in their lives, the inevitable separation, but not an abandonment? "Us," she said pointedly. "We'll be friends through jobs and kids and marriages." She grinned. "I'm sure I'll outlast several of your husbands.

I close my eyes and in the darkness that smells of mildew and bygone lives, my mind casts back, a line thrown across years and continents.

apparently there was an expiration date on grief. It was like an exterior door closing; once it shut and you were in the dark, you were supposed to forget how much you missed the light

he would learn that some roads could not be refound and that true love took time and effort Ã¢â'¬Â¦ that a life lived in the glare of summer sunlight never produced a rainbow.

Time heals all wounds, people told her, underscoring its essential kindness. She knew in fact that some wounds deepened over time instead of lessened;

He hadn't realized how time could unspool the years of your life until for a second you were fourteen again, crying from a place so deep it seemed to predate you, desperate to be whole again.

Time. It was the rack everything hung on: life, loss, hope, love.

No foreign sky protected me, no stranger's wing shielded my face. I stand as witness to the common lot, survivor of that time, that place. —ANNA AKHMATOVA, FROM POEMS OF AKHMATOVA, TRANSLATED BY STANLEY KUNITZ, WITH MAX HAYWARD

The love, it comes in the beginning of her life and at the end of yours.

Life is short, her dad had said. She knew it was true. Every motherless child knew that. But just now, with her husband's voice droning on and on, she couldn't quite grasp hold of that. Because there was something else, equally true. When you were forty-five years old and missing out, it felt as if life were very long indeed.

Time spent together created an intimacy that didn't quite spill over into friendship.

Love is what remains when everything else is gone. This is what I should have told my children when we left Texas. What I will tell them tonight. Not that they will understand yet. How could they? I am forty years old, and I only just learned this fundamental truth myself.

You think you have all the time in the world until you know you don't.

At six, she left Jack a note on the kitchen counter, just in case he got home before she did. It was a wasted gesture, of course. With his homing skills, she'd be through menopause by the time he found it.

June slipped away from Michael; days fell like rain, disappearing in the ground at his feet.

Stolen time became the engine that powered her world; on weekends, when hours without Matthew stretched out before her, she felt an almost unbearable need to leave the homestead, run to him, find a way to steal just ten more minutes. The

They'd blithely thrown their line of dreams out again and again, reeling in nothing but lost chances and missed opportunities. Why hadn't they realized how precious every moment was?

How can I start at the beginning, when all I can think about is the end?

Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not; rather find strength in what remains behind. —WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, ODE: INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD

Las heridas se cierran. El amor perdura. Permanecemos.

There will be days -- even years from now -- when the missing will be so sharp it takes your breath away.