Quotes About Clock

Time is running out for us But you just move the hands upon the clock You throw coins in the wishing well For us You just move your hands upon the wall

If there was time on the clock there was a chance.

Even Einstein had to rely for his time on his clock.

I was a ticking clock in a timeless world

The hour of courage has struck on the clock …', ran Anna Akhmatova's poem at that moment when the very existence of Russia appeared to be in mortal danger.

I hate this. It seems like a Sunday afternoon." "It is Sunday afternoon," said Thack. "I know, but … I mean, like when you were a kid, when you knew that Monday was coming, and the clock was ticking away. Saturdays were perfect, because there was Sunday, which was sort of a buffer. But Sundays just got worse and worse." Thack

I looked at the clock with the faint unconscious hope common to all mothers that time will somehow have passed magically away and the next time you look it will be bedtime.

I clear breakfast at ten o'clock. I set on lunch at one. Dinner I set on at six. It's ten o'clock.

The temperature was still in the eighties even though it was almost 1700 hours.

Life itself is the best (and the only) timekeeper.

The day time will stop moving, had I known and fulfillment will be the clock hands that will show many people the hour that passed and moment in which they are.

hndoera kindyour life is a ticking of a clock when that clock stops ur life stops

When his clock was inside my body, it wasn't just a clock engaged in the act of penetration, it felt like a gun of pure euphoria, a weapon, yes, but one meant only to calm all my fears in the rootless world. An instrument of both reassurance and forgetfulness.

Practice" To weep unbidden, to wake at night in order to weep, to wait for the whisker on the face of the clock to twitch again, moving the dumb day forward— is this merely practice? Some believe in heaven, some in rest. We'll float, you said. Afterward we'll float between two worlds— five bronze beetles stacked like spoons in one peony blossom, drugged by lust: if I came back as a bird I'd remember that— until everyone we love is safe is what you said.

The less I'm in a hurry, the quicker the results seem to happen. With patience, the quality of my experience has a depth that can't be measured bon the clock, but by the timelessness of my experience.

And if the origin of things is not like the ground of the planet that seems to be the base, but like the circular movement that the planet describes around a mobile center, then a car, a clock, or a sewing machine could equally be accepted as the generative principle.

For someone who is rarely on time, my body clock always knows when it's too early to go to bed and I just lie there in the dark like I'm hiding.

There were times when the fact of impending death seemed as palpable as the bed they lay on, and they would cling together with a sort of despairing sensuality, like a damned soul grasping at his last morsel of pleasure when the clock is within five minutes of striking. But there were also times when they had the illusion not only of safety but of permanence.

There were times when the fact of impending death seemed as palpable as the bed they lay on, and they would cling together with a sort of despairing sensuality, like a damned soul grasping at his last morsel of pleasure when the clock is within five minutes of striking.

I remember disassembling and putting an old analog alarm clock together. It was a lot of fun figuring out why it still worked with that one spring missing.

I remember the 2015 World Cup looking up at the scoreboard and seeing that big Hublot sign and that clock and I just think it's a real compliment to the game of cricket.

The same biological clock ticks away in humans and fruit flies, which underscores the importance of circadian timing to life on this planet.

When you're running a route, timing is everything. You have an internal clock - a timer that goes off in your mind that tells you that you need to be ready for the ball - and you have to get to your spot on time.

I follow the voice, follow the sobbing and cursing, follow it down a twisting, tightening spiral until, somewhere far beneath the earth, among the roots on the monstrous clock, I find him.