You're hot for two seconds, and you're struggling to get work again. If it were easy, I don't think that's a good place for an artist to work from.
Love is 2 minutes and 52 seconds of squelching noises.
I watched as that kid died. In his last few seconds there was pure terror in his eyes. You can't do that. You can't do that to a person. I don't care what anybody tells me, I don't care how many people go crazy and die, I don't care if the whole shuck human race ends. Even if that was the only thing that had to happen to find the cure, I'd still be against it.
Because just for a few seconds, someone else hurts, too. For just a few seconds, I'm not alone.
It took only seconds for me to make these discoveries, but even in that short time, my stomach nearly jumped through my mouth trying to reach the food.
For a second, two seconds, they had exchanged an equivocal glance, and that was the end of the story. But even that was a memorable event, in the locked loneliness in which one had to live.
His eyes held hers. “Because I knew, ten seconds after walking into this office and meeting you, that we had this in the bag.
Fate" Eve said with a sigh "I'm not sure fate had to burn up your car to get the point across," Shane said, buckling his own seatbelt. "No, not that. The hearse. I'm going to name it Fate." Shane stared at Eve for a long, long few seconds, then slowly shook his head. "Have you considered medication, or-" She flipped him off. "Ah. Back to normal. Excellent.
Are you out of your collective minds? I swear I can’t leave you two alone for three seconds that you don’t go off and hurt yourselves. I expect stupid out of you, but you know better.” – Caleb “I tried to tell him that. He won’t listen to me. Tag. You’re it.” – Nekoda
What do you mean I have a predetermined death?” – Nick “Did I stutter?” – Death “No.” – Nick “Do I look like Webster’s?” – Death “No.” – Nick “Then you should understand what I said, since I didn’t speak in code. Every mortal creature is born with an expiration date. Some immortals, too. Set by the big clockmaker. But excessive stupidity and moronic tendencies can shorten it. Pissing me off is one really good way to cut yours down to three seconds from now.” – Death
When I meet people who say - which they do all of the time - 'I must just tell you, my great aunt had cancer of the elbow and the doctors gave her 10 seconds to live, but last I heard she was climbing Mount Everest,' and so forth, I switch off quite early.
I held out my hot dog, which had grown cold. “Do you want this?” “No way. You’re going to need it. If anything bad happens, just take a bite. Ten seconds later, you’ll feel all warm and happy inside.
Recent research has indicated that the average individual listens for only seventeen seconds before interrupting and interjecting his own ideas.
Somewhere on this globe, every ten seconds, there is a woman giving birth to a child. She must be found and stopped.
Foxy girls know that silence may be golden-but only for four seconds. Anything longer and you're heading for Awkward Avenue.
Are you coming down with something?" Mom asks. And just for the tiniest of seconds, I wonder what would happen if I told them the truth. That school is nothing like I imagined it would be. That I'm not the girl in the catalog at all. I'm not a Happy College Student. I don't know who I am. Or maybe I do know who I am and I just don't want to be her anymore.
I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.
Fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run.
Most of the moments of our life - and I calculated, you know, the psychological present is said to be about three seconds long; that means that, you know, in a life there are about 600 million of them; in a month, there are about 600,000 - most of them don't leave a trace.
She'll have to get over it, then. Are you going to let her drop out of Dauntless for a stupid reason like not being able to walk?" Zeke is quiet for a few seconds. His eyes shift over my face, and he squints, as if weighing and measuring me. Then he turns and bends and wraps his arms around me. it's been so long since someone hugged me that I stiffen. Then I relax, and let the gesture force warmth over my body.
You were difficult enough to catch,” Faste said. Salander gave him a long look, satisfied herself that he was an idiot, and decided that she would not waste too many seconds concerning herself with his existence.
We live through myriads of seconds, yet it is always one, just one, that casts our entire inner world into turmoil, the second when (as Stendhal has described it) the internal inflorescence, already steeped in every kind of fluid, condenses and crystallizes—a magical second, like the moment of generation, and like that moment concealed in the warm interior of the individual life, invisible, untouchable, beyond the reach of feeling, a secret experienced alone. No algebra of the mind can calculate it, no alchemy of premonition divine it, and it can seldom perceive itself.
I'm on so late I'm definitely the last seconds of anyone's attention. So I just want to give them something dumb to laugh at, so they go, 'That's funny,' then fall asleep.
It could not have been ten seconds, and yet it seemed a long time that their hands were clasped together. He had time to learn every detail of her hand.
People took what they wanted, they clutched at coincidences, the few there were, and made a life from them. . . . Choices are made in brief seconds and paid for in the time that remains.
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