The Time Keeper

by Mitch Albom

a clock ticks for all of us, silently,

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 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.

“Man rarely knows his own power,”

“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.”

“The length of your days does not belong to you. You will learn that as well.”

that holding on to things “will only break your heart.”

We are, as we die, who we most were in life,

man invents nothing God did not create first.

Not aging is not the same as living,

He was doing what man does when left with nothing. He was telling himself his own life story.

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

“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?”

“Remember this always: There is a reason God limits man’s days.” “What is the reason?” “Finish your journey and you will know.”

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

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

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

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

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

you grab a moment, or you let it pass.

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

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.

knowing something and understanding it were not the same thing.

when hope is gone, time is punishment.

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,

When we are most alone is when we embrace another’s loneliness. Victor took her hand. Everything went black.

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

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

Why? Why take her own life? Why die in a garage? Why cause this pain to anyone she loved?

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

“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.”

“Love does not make you a fool.”

“Just tell me …” Her voice cracked. “When does it stop hurting?” “Sometimes never.”

“How did you survive?” she asked. “All that time with your wife not with you?” “She was always with me,” he said.

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.”

“Ends are for yesterdays, not tomorrows.”

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

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

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.

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

“Never too late or too soon,”

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.

And as that glass is lifted by curious workers, someplace far away—someplace indescribable in the pages of a book—a

a man named Dor and a woman named Alli run barefoot up a hillside, tossing stones, laughing with their children, and time never crosses their minds.