“Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “This means so much to me.” Slowly, even though he doesn't realize it, Elijah is giving me so much than he ever could and he's not even spending money. He's using time. Some people think time is a waste. But not to me. Time is a gift. Something to be treasured and never taken for granted. Something that's more precious than any dollar a person could spend. Why? Because you never know how much time a person has left.It can be taken away in an instant.In a heartbeat.And I'm determined to never waste a second of mine.”

“...and time thickened so that the seconds passed like years.”

“[T]he people who are close to Allah worry so much about wasting time that they call themselves to account for every breath they spend - how many of us wonder about how we spend our day, let alone each breath?”

“Children would beg for a peppermint drop each time he walked into town, and they'd follow behind, asking for a second and a third. When he died suddenly, while working late at his office, every boy and girl in the village reported smelling mint in the night air, as if somehing sweet had passed them right by.”

“He was glad some of the pain was fading, had already faded so much since the first year. But it seemed more to be a trade off: with the pain went details and memories. People had said, ‘Time heals,’ but he realized time didn’t heal, time just eroded and confused, and he didn’t think that was the same thing at all.”