David Levithan Quotes

Six years-six little years-six drops of time.

Moments into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Days into years. Years into possibility. This will linger.

Time sometimes passes quite quickly.

I've only been gone a week," I reminded him. Well, a week's a long time. It's seven days. Which is one hundred and sixty-eight hours. Which is ten thousand, eighty minutes. Which is six hundred thousand, for hundred seconds.

The hour-hand of life.

Before you measure the years, you measure the days.

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

In the words of the old song, it's a long time from May to December but, you know, it's an equally long time from December to May.

Some moments it feels longer, other moments it feels like it's flown by; you can't believe you've done it all that time... Overall, you have a strong sense for the full spectrum that you've sort of traveled.

Time doesn't go. Time stays. We go.

Time itself comes in drops.

Life is short, but the years are long.

One's relationship to time is complicated, and sometimes a day will drag on forever and sometimes it'll be over in a flash. When you look back, "I'm old," after 40 or 60 years, I can't believe I'm as old as I am.

I can't believe I'm 29. Where did the years go? Why did the years go?

Time rushes by and yet time is frozen. Funny how we get so exact about time at the end of life and at its beginning. She died at 6:08 or 3:46, we say, or the baby was born at 4:02. But in between we slosh through huge swatches of time--weeks, months, years, decades even.

Time jumps. It leaps. It pours away like water through fingers.

Time goes on, even when yer not looking.

But now isn’t simply now. Now is also a cold reminder: one whole day later than yesterday, one year later than last year. Every now is labeled with its date, rendering all past nows obsolete, until — later of sooner — perhaps — no, not perhaps — quite certainly: it will come.

We see which way the stream of time doth run.

The test is the sixty seconds of every minute, and the sixty minutes of every hour, not our times of prayer and devotional meetings.

Time, like a preacher in the days of the Puritans, turned the hour-glass on his high pulpit, the church belfry.

Still on it creeps, Each little moment at another's heels, Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up Of such small parts as these, and men look back Worn and bewilder'd, wondering how it is.

It's proven that how time moves for you depends on where you are in the universe. It's relative to beings and other places. But on the level of being here on earth, if you are aware in a moment, one second can last a year. And if you are unaware, your whole childhood, your whole life can pass by in six seconds. But it’s also such a thing that you can get lost in.

Imperceptibly the hours glide on, and beguile us as they pass.