Time Distortion Quotes

When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.

When you sit with a nice girl for two hours, it seems like two minutes; when you sit on a hot stove for two minutes, it seems like two hours. That's relativity.

Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.

Purple haze all in my eyes, don't know if it's day or night. You got me blowin', blowin' my mind. Is it tomorrow or just the end of time?

Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been.

Thinking of a series of dreams Where the time and the tempo fly And there's no exit in any direction 'Cept the one that you can't see with your eyes

Once you are diagnosed with cancer, time changes. It both speeds up insanely and stops altogether.

On the human imagination, events produce the effects of time. Thus, he who has travelled far and seen much, is apt to fancy that he has lived long; and the history that most abounds in important incidents, soonest assumes the aspect of antiquity.

Photographs deceive time, freezing it on a piece of cardboard where the soul is silent.

Time flows in a strange way on Sundays.

Four years ago... no, it was yesterday.

Our subjective experience of time is highly variable. We all know that days can pass like weeks and months can feel like years, and that the opposite can be just as true: A month or year can zoom by in what feels like no time at all.

The time would not pass. Somebody was playing with the clocks, and not only the electronic clocks but the wind-up kind too. The second hand on my watch would twitch once, and a year would pass, and then it would twitch again. There was nothing I could do about it. As an Earthling I had to believe whatever clocks said -and calendars.

A million years went by quick.

There is the past, and there is the future. The present is never more than the single second dividing one from the other. We live poised on that second as it's hurtling forward-toward what?

Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?

Time flows in strange ways on Sundays, and sights become mysteriously distorted.

We are all time travelers moving at the speed of exactly 60 minutes per hour.

The habit of dwelling on the past, has a narrowing as well as a debilitating influence. Behind us, there is a small, - an almost insignificant measure of time; before us, there is an eternity. It is the natural tendency of the mind to magnify the one, and to diminish the other.

There were moments when she wasn't talking so much as fading into time, dropping back into some funnelled stretch of recent past.

That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.

The afternoon and the early evening slide by in a lidded daze where the ability to think in any identifiable way disappears and where every moment seems to be an eternity.

At some point, you no longer feel pain. Sensation disappears and reason is dulled, until you lose all grasp of time and place.

But it's Sunday, Mr. Bell. Clocks are slow on Sundays.

When you cut into the present the future leaks out.