My Life glass lays on its sides, Lodging new and old sand hives. Longing for a crack to slip through, Lying for their lack of plain clue. Lounging loosely on each end, Laughing to be spent or spend. My dirt clock is lazy still, I beg God, one end to ...
Certainly, the great record of forced labor across the South demands that any consideration of the progress of civil rights remedy in the United States must acknowledge that slavery, real slavery, didn't end until 1945 - well into the childhoods of t...
Life is like the end of a pendulum. Swinging back and fourth in a Clock. Where the bottom is always heavy and swings wide. It moves time. The top stays in one place. Doesn't move anything. You want to be the bottom of the pendulum and swing back and ...
Miles Raymond: [runs into his apartment, noticing his clock] Oh, fuck me! [cut to Miles on the phone] Miles Raymond: I know I said I would be there at noon, but traffic has been a beast, but I'm out the door and on my way right now! [the next shot re...
Rapunzel: [singing] Flower gleam and glow. Let your powers shine. Make the clock reverse. Bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt. Change the fates' design. Save what has been lost. Bring back what once was mine, What once was mine...
Excerpt: Paradox – Bound By Blood. The hands on a clock never falter, not for a second. One day ends; and a new begins. If there was one thing on this earth that could be counted on, it was that. Time never paused to mourn the dead. That particular...
When you play piano, your left hand and right hand are synced. Your brain basically has a clock, so that the right hand knows that 0.3 seconds after I hit this key, I need to hit that one. And the right hand knows not to hit keys that the left hand i...
I think you are wise. You haven't got what it takes for this job. You are like Rosemary's father. He couldn't understand Lenin's dictum: 'Away with softness.'" I thought of Hercule Poirot's words. "I'm content," I said, "to be human...." We sat there...
Fritz had to stop himself from interrupting when Karl spoke about the difficulty of working. Stories are just as hard as clocks to put together, and they can go wrong just as easily--as we shall soon see with Fritz's own story in a page or two. Still...
Edna restored the toffee to the centre of her tongue and sucking pleasurably, resumed her typing of Naked Love by Armand Levine. Its painstaking eroticism left her uninterested--as indeed it did most of Mr. Levine's readers, in spite of his efforts. ...
Look at your hand. Its structure does not match the structure of assertions, the structure of facts. Your hand is continuous. Assertions and facts are discontinuous.... You lift your index finger half an inch; it passes through a million facts. Look ...
There are moments when i wish i could roll back the clock and take all the sadness away, but i have a feeling that if i did, the joy would be gone as well. So i take the memories as they come, accepting them all, letting them guide me whenever i can.
It's barely changed since the faceless colour committee originally selected it in 1908 when the first map of the Underground was designed and the Bakerloo conclusively became brown, a very early twentieth-century brown, which brings something of the ...
Sometimes, when we are far from clocks and schedules, we can still recapture a lost sense of place-based time. On a relaxing camping trip or a long day outdoors, perhaps, we can slip back into the rhythm of the sun.
I don't feel like a person at all: I am something to be loaded and unloaded, like a sofa or a cuckoo clock. I am something to be tossed into a junkyard, thrown into the river, if necessary. I don't feel real anymore. I feel like I could disappear.
No real reason for the lack of sleep, it’s a disadvantage of rotating shifts that every so often your body clock just throws up it’s hands in despair and goes to sulk behind the sofa – leaving you suffering insomnia and/or intense fatigue.
I'd love to know how Dad saw me when I was 6. I'd love to know a hundred things. When a parent dies, a filing cabinet full of all the fascinating stuff also ceases to exist. I never imagined how hungry I'd be one day to look inside it.
For most digital-age writers, writing rewriting. We grope, cut, block, paste, and twitch, panning for gold onscreen by deleting bucketloads of crap. Our analog ancestors had to polish every line mentally before hammering it out mechanically. Rewrites...
We’ve lived so long based on the seasons, or the phases of the moon,” I said. “Women are particularly vulnerable to it, if you want to get sexist. In the past few centuries we’ve gotten away from it and we are turning into beings that live ar...
People are ignorant of what any street clock knows. Why? Because the crack that cleaves existence also swallows their existence-reflecting consciousnesses. Thrown back into existence, the poor souls don't suspect that a moment ago they didn't exist -...
I had a dream about you. You were the love of my life, if just for one night. I brought your body pure pleasure, and your orgasm sounded exactly like an alarm clock going off.
