Mitch Albom Time Keeper Quotes

It is never too late or too soon. It is when it is supposed to be.

We all yearn for what we have lost. But sometimes, we forget what we have.

With endless time, nothing is special. With no loss or sacrifice, we can’t appreciate what we have

Try to imagine a life without timekeeping. You probably can’t. You know the month, the year, the day of the week. There is a clock on your wall or the dashboard of your car. You have a schedule, a calendar, a time for dinner or a movie. Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays. an alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures. A fear of time running out.

There is a reason God limits our days.' 'Why?' 'To make each one precious.

Sometimes, when you are not getting the love you want, giving makes you think you will.

When you are measuring life, you are not living it.

Holding on to things only breaks your heart.

Knowing something and understanding it were not the same thing.

I made such a fool of myself,” she lamented. “Love does not make you a fool.” “He didn’t love me back.” “That does not make you a fool, either.” “Just tell me …” Her voice cracked. “When does it stop hurting?” “Sometimes never.

When we are most alone is when we embrace another's loneliness.

Ends are for yesterday, not tomorrows.

But a desperate heart will seduce the mind.

A heart weighs more when it splits in two; it crashes in the chest like a broken plane.

No matter how smart she appeared, she was fragile at her core.

There is a reason God limits man's days.

But hurting ourselves to inflict pain on others is just another cry to be loved.

But fates are connected in ways we don’t understand.

She felt worthless and hollow. There was no hope of fixing this. And when hope is gone, time is punishment.

He cried that night for all that he had lost, but he would say it taught him a valuable lesson: that holding on to things "will only break your heart.

But they wanted you. Time is not something you give back. The very next moment may be answer to your prayer. To deny that is to deny the most important part of the future.

Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures. A fear of time running out.

There was always a quest for more minutes, more hours, faster progress to accomplish more in each day. The simple joy of living between summers was gone.

But you grab a moment, or you let it pass.

As mankind grew obsessed with its hours, the sorrow of lost time became a permanent hole in the human heart. People fretted over missed chances, over inefficient days; they worried constantly about how long they would live, because counting life’s moments had led, inevitably, to counting them down. Soon, in every nation and in every language, time became the most precious commodity.

A man who can take anything will find most things unsatisfying. And a man without memories is just a shell.

The length of your days does not belong to you.

You had many more years,” he said. “I didn’t want them.” “But they wanted you. Time is not something you give back. The very next moment may be an answer to your prayer. To deny that is to deny the most important part of the future.” “What’s that?” “Hope.

Mankind is connected in ways it does not understand - even in dreams.

Everything man does today to be efficient, to fill the hour? It does not satisfy. It only makes him hungry to do more. Man wants to own his existence. But no one owns time. When you are measuring life, you are not living it.

With no loss or sacrifice, we can't appreciate what we have.

What you have done to this point cannot be undone. What you do next... It is still unwritten.

When hope is gone, time is punishment.

All who are born are always dying.

But common sense has no place in first love and never has.

Man wants to own his existence. But no one owns time.

Soon man will count all his days, and then smaller segments of the day, and then smaller still—until the counting consumes him, and the wonder of the world he has been given is lost.

We do not realize the sound the world makes -- unless, of course, it comes to a stop. Then, when it starts, it sounds like an orchestra.

Before you measure the years, you measure the days.

Sitting high above the city, Father Time realized that knowing something and understanding it were not the same thing.

It is too late." The old man shook his head. "It is never too late or too soon. It is when it is supposed to be." He smiled. "There is a plan, Dor.

Time flies with you

You marked the minutes," the old man said. "But did you use them wisely? To be still? To cherish? To be grateful? To lift and be lifted?

Don't get too attached to anything.

Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays. Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creatures endures. A fear of time running out.

It is never too late or too soon, the old man had said. It is when it is supposed to be.

He almost told her everything right then, that very moment. But you grab a moment, or you let it pass. He let it pass.

As children grow, they gravitate to their fates.

We cannot stop what Heaven chooses.

Remember this always: There is a reason God limits man's days

What will you do with the time you have left?

Once, lovers on faraway shores sat by candlelight and dipped ink to parchment, writing words that could not be erased. They took an evening to compose their thoughts, maybe the next evening as well.

Learn what you do not know. Understand the consequences of counting the moments.

She had been so consumed with escaping her own misery, she hadn't considered the misery she might inflict.

Didn't people call New Year's the loneliest night on the calender? She took comfort in knowing somewhere on the planet, someone might be as miserable as she was.

Consider the word “time.” We use so many phrases with it. Pass time. Waste time. Kill time. Lose time. In good time. About time. Take your time. Save time. A long time. Right on time. Out of time. Mind the time. Be on time. Spare time. Keep time. Stall for time. There are as many expressions with “time” as there are minutes in a day. But once, there was no word for it at all. Because no one was counting. Then Dor began. And everything changed.

Please, please, please, please, please...,", squeezing his eyes shut because it somehow made the words more pure.

This time was different. The tools of this era--phones, computers--enabled people to move at a blurring pace. Yet despite all they accomplished, they were never at peace.

I lived," Dor said, "but I was not alive.

We’re gonna make up for that. We’re gonna live a long time together.

Dor shook his head. “The phrase. What does it mean?” Sarah wondered if he was kidding. “Time flies? You know, like, time goes really fast and suddenly you’re saying goodbye and it’s like no time passed at all?” His eyes drifted. He liked it. “Time flies.” “With you,” she added.

You really loved her?' 'I would have given my life.' 'Would you have taken it?' 'No, child,' he said. 'That is not ours to do.

He wondered how it was fair that your dying should depend so much on when you were born.

He did not know that the child who had asked for yesterday was now seeking to own tomorrow.

Before you measure the years, you measure the days. And before the days, you measure the moon.

Man invents nothing God did not create first.

You were one person, and you changed the world.

He explained how once we began to chime the hour, we lost the ability to be satisfied. There was always a quest for more minutes, more hours, faster progress to accomplish more in each day. The simple joy of living between sunrises was gone.

A man who can take anything will find most things unsatisfying.

The hands of a clock will find their way home.

You were never alone.

What is the reason?' 'Finish your journey and you will know.

A heart weighs more when it splits in two; it crashes in the chest like a broken plane. Sarah dragged her wreckage back to the house up to her bedroom, and down into a deep, dark hole.

Dor felt a warm, calming feeling when he said those words—She is my wife—because ever since they were children she was like the sky to him, forever around.

We do not realize the sound the world makes-unless of course, it comes to a stop. Then, when it starts, it sounds like an orchestra. Breaking waves. Whipping wind. Falling rain. Squawking birds. All throughout the universe, time resumed and nature sang.

A long time. Right on time. Out of time. Mind the time. Be on time. Spare time. Keep time. Stall for time. There are as many expressions with "time" as there are minutes in a day. But once, there was no word for it at all. Because no one was counting.

Not aging is not the same as living

A heart weighs more when it splits in two

Time is not something you give back

And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creatures endures. A fear of time running out

Stay with me." "Forever.

Hurting ourselves to inflict pain on others is just another cry to be loved.

Common sense would have told Sarah to steer clear of Ethan's waters. But common sense has no place in first love and never has.

The End is coming. What will you do with the time you have left?

And when gods touched something, the normal became the supernatural, the simple became the wondrous.

Her death was as insignificant as her life.

I was so lonely.” And Father Time said, “You were never alone.

Please make it yesterday, when Papa came home.

Please do not leave me, he thought. He could not bear a world without Alli. He realized how much he relied on her from morning until night. She was his only conversation. His only smile. She prepared their meager food and always offered it to him first, even though he insisted she eat before he did. THey leaned on each other at sunsets. Holding her as they slept felt like his last connection to humanity.

But Father Time is real. And, in truth, he cannot age. Beneath the unruly beard and cascading hair—signs of life, not death—his body is lean, his skin unwrinkled, immune to the very thing he lords over.

He had his time measures and he had her. That was his life. For as long as he could remember, it had been that way, Dor and Alli, even as children. "I do not want to die," she whispered. "You will not die." "I want to be with you." "You are.

Love does not make you a fool.

He thought about his son’s stone flying across the yard, the youthful idea that you could toss away the future if you didn’t like it—and he realized, suddenly, what he needed to do.

Einstein once postulated that if you traveled at an enormous rate of speed, time would actually slow down relative to the world you left behind, so that seeing the future without aging alongside it was at least theoretically, possible.

What was the constant? Movement. Yes. With time there was always movement. The setting sun. The dripping water. The pendulums. The spilling sand. To realize his destiny, such movement had to cease. He had to stop the flow of time completely …

A wind blew, and the sand around his drawing scattered. He wrapped his fingers inside his wife's, and Father Time rekindled a connection he had only ever had with her. He surrendered to that sensation and felt the final drops of their lives touch one another, like water in a cave, top meets bottom, Heaven meets Earth. As their eyes closed, a different set of eyes opened, and they rose from the ground as a shared south, up and up, a sun and a moon in a single sky.

And thus unknowingly, Dor began to serve his sentence -- to hear every plea from every soul who desired more of the thing he had first identified, the thing that moved man further from the simple light of existence and deeper into the darkness of his own obsessions. Time.

Once, lovers on faraway shores sat by candlelight and dipped ink to parchment, writing words that could not be erased. They took an evening to compose their thoughts, maybe the next evening as well. When they mailed the letter, they wrote a name, a street, a city, a country and they melted wax and sealed the envelope with a signet ring. Sarah had never known a world like that. Speed now trumped the quality of words. A fast send was more important.

Everything man does today to be efficient, to fill the hour?" Dor said. "It does not satisfy. It only makes him hungry to do more. Man wants to own his existence. But no one owns time." He lowered his hand from Victor's eyes. "When you are measuring time, you are not living it. I know.

Dor came from a time before the written word, a time when if you wished to speak with someone, you walked to see them. This time was different. The tools of this era—phones, computers—enabled people to move at a blurring pace. Yet despite all they accomplished, they were never at peace. They constantly checked their devices to see what time it was— the very thing Dor had tried to determine once with a stick, a stone, and a shadow.