We had visceral, rich memories of dull, interminable hours. Then a day would pass in perfect harmony with our projects, our family members, and our coworkers, and we couldn’t believe we were getting paid for this.
Yes, I still believe in God. That hasn't changed. I just needed some time away.” “Ah.” Inspector Carrola clicked his tongue. “For your sake, I hope that God does not need some time away from you.
When ours are interrupted, his are not. His plans are proceeding exactly as scheduled, moving us always (including those minutes or hours or years which seem most useless or wasted or unendurable).
...having nothing better to do, meandered off to a coffee shop and sat facing each other for a couple of hours, neither of them talking much but each coming to the general conclusion that the other was a person rather like himself...
It is time to float on the waters of the night. Time to wrap my arms around this book and press it to my chest, life preserver in a sea of unremarkable men and women, anonymous faces on the street, a hundred thousand unalphabetized things, a million ...
One never said the things one wanted — one remembered them all an hour afterwards. On the other hand one usually said a lot of things one shouldn't, simply from a sense that one had to say something.
He knows bad days. Bad days take him completely by surprise. They make him not trust the good days because it's likely something is lurking twenty-four hours away.
All in all, the lunch date was fine. Like an opened can of soda in its second hour. If you were thirsty, you might take a sip or two, but I carried more hopes walking in to the restaurant than I did walking out.
You should see my corgis at sunset in the snow. It's their finest hour. About five o'clock they glow like copper. Then they come in and lie in front of the fire like a string of sausages.
I spent an hour looking at pots and carpets in the museums the other day, until the desire to describe them became like the desire for the lusts of the flesh.
He desired her and, so far as her virginal emotions went, she contemplated a surrender with equanimity. Yet she knew she would forget him half an hour after she left him - like an actor kissed in a picture.
My favorite unit of time is the hour, because I collect them and store as many as 10 new and unused ones each night to use after I’m dead. The best time to make love to me is right after I’ve fallen asleep.
I sped-read through a book that probably weighed a pound, though I only gleaned about nine ounces of information. That's because it was a book on love that I read while making love. I multitask like I pay by the hour.
Sometimes he spent hours together in the great libraries of Paris, those catacombs of departed authors, rummaging among their hoards of dusty and obsolete works in quest of food for his unhealthy appetite. He was, in a manner, a literary ghoul, feedi...
I carry a little plastic tub with me, and I put my most valuable possessions in them—my means of travel, which are my feet. I soak them, sometimes for hours, while I watch a movie in the theater.
The stars, like the hollow eyes of a god forgotten, marry the sadness of the exhausted hour and inspire a little chaos, a little gentleness, to those below. I look up at the sky and see everything I’ve ever lost, waiting for me.
Firstly: don't touch the hands of your cuckoo-clock heart. Secondly: master your anger. Thirdly: never, ever fall in love. For if you do, the hour hand will poke through your skin, your bones will shatter, and your heart will break once more.
It's easy to make women happier and busier. How? Buy her a talking mirror beside bitching it has to be programmed to say, "You are looking very beautiful and slimmer," at precisely every hour.
The little boy nodded at the peony and the peony seemed to nod back. The little boy was neat, clean and pretty. The peony was unchaste, dishevelled as peonies must be, and at the height of its beauty.(...) Every hour is filled with such moments, big ...
Tomorrow I don’t have to work, which means I don’t have to get up. I could just die in my sleep and nobody would care for 48 hours.
Brunch is such an odd thing. It was created by fat, lazy people who were too lazy to wake up at a reasonable hour and too fat to wait until the next proper time for dining.
