We never can just stop time. Or take moments back. Life doesn't work that way, does it?
I held my breath as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us.
Lost time is never found again.
The purpose of art is to stop time.
I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found how to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it.
You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.
Only when the clock stops does time come to life
It is a magical thing for a handful of words, artfully arranged, to stop time. To conjure a place, a person, a situation, in all its specificity and dimensions. To affect us and alter us, as profoundly as real people and things do.
When the world stops, time stops.
Life needed a fast forward button. Because there were days you just don't want to live through, not again, but they kept coming around and you were powerless to stop time or speed it up or do anything to keep from having to face it.
Time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop.
Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.
The secret wish of poetry is to stop time.
Maybe it's because I'm getting older, I'm finding enjoyment in things that stop time. Just the simple act of tasting a glass of wine is its own event. You're not downing a glass of wine in the midst of doing something else.
Music has the power to stop time. But music also keeps time.
But sometimes the world disrobes, slips its dress off a shoulder, stops time for a beat. If we look up at that moment, it's not due to any ability of ours to pierce the darkness, it's the world's brief bestowal. The catastrophe of grace.
True myths, ancient and modern, stop time because they emerge from somewhere beyond time.
Wonder is the heaviest element on the periodic table. Even a tiny fleck of it stops time.
Morning tide makes a great companion when you don’t want to be around people. It soothes and comforts and doesn't ask for anything. But the sun does. The higher it gets, the more I am reminded that nothing stops time. There is no escaping it.
My dear, old age is like an airplane flying in a storm. Once you're in it there's nothing you can do. You can't stop a plane, you can't stop a storm, you can't stop time. So you might as well take it easy, with wisdom.
Fiction and poetry are the only way one can stop time and give an account of an experience and nail it down so that it lasts for ever.
I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it's hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while everyone else is frozen, I can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep.
The real meaning of a poem is to stop time.
The Way It Is There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old. Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding. You don’t ever let go of the thread. ~ William Stafford ~
My favorite kind of music is the stuff that stops time. You put something on to sit there and let an experience go through you. To look at yourself clearly through a song. It's true of all art, all mediums, but for some reason music has a direct line straight into people.
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