I started crying 20 seconds into the movie and didnt stop till it was over.
I make up my mind about whether I can trust someone within 60 seconds of meeting them
Thirty seconds is the exact amount of time Americans can tolerate something they don't understand.
I'm 49, I've had a brain haemorrhage and a triple bypass and I could still go out and play a reasonable game of rugby union. But I wouldn't last 30 seconds in rugby league.
Shouldn't that be flipped right-side up?" I asked. "No," she said, eyes on the cards. After several moments of heavy silence, said, "You will destroy that which is undead. " I waited about thirty seconds for her to continue, but she didn't. "Wait, that's it?" She nodded. "That's what the cards say to me.
And whether this happiness lasted a hundred seconds or ten minutes, it was so far removed from time that it resembled every other genuine happiness as completely as one fluttering blue lycaenid butterfly resembles another.
Failure is just a few seconds away from success.
I was going to talk about Nicholas Parsons' ignorance, but 18 seconds would be a wholly insufficient time.
I meditate. Like, I try. Not every day, but even if I'm not doing that meditation, the moments of my day have changed because I'm not on my phone so much. I'm intentionally not checking my phone every two seconds.
The last great unknown, in terms of physiological training, is the optimum length of a piece. Is three minutes enough? Is ten minutes too much? No one knows. Perhaps someday the question will be answered-we'll find out that thirteen minutes is the perfect length for a training piece when preparing for a 2000 meter race. Until then, coaches will continue exploring the whole scale, up and down, from thirty seconds to sixty minutes and more, in hopes of capturing the optimum time.
There are 86,400 seconds in a day. It's up to you to decide what to do with them.
Now children as young as nine carry AK47s which can kill 30 people in seconds.
A remarkable thing about me is that the time that elapses between a sad thought and a flood of tears is three or four seconds.
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.
Real isn't what they try to tell you. Time isn't. Grown-ups hammer down all these markers, bells, schedules, coffee-breaks, to stake down time so you'll start believing it's something small and mean, something that scrapes flake after flake off of everything you love till there's nothing left; to stake you down so you don't lift off and fly away, somersaulting through whirlpools of months, skimming through eddies of glittering seconds, pouring handfuls of hours over your upturned face.
These days, it takes only seconds - seconds - for a picture, a photo, to suddenly become an international headline.
If I could make a record in two minutes and thirty seconds, I'd do it. I want the creativity, and I don't give a f - k about the snare sound.
I'm an optimistic agnostic. I think the second we die, within a matter of seconds, everybody else arrives, and that's the party, and you live your hell on earth.
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.
The first night Stephen and I slept together, he whispered numbers into my ear: long, high numbers -- distances between planets, seconds in a life. He spoke as if they were poetry, and they became poetry. Later, when he fell asleep, I leaned over him and watched, trying to picture a mathematician's dreams. I concluded that Stephen must dream in abstract, cool designs like Mondrian paintings.