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Updated: May 25, 2025
Now for the explosion! The clock-hand reaches the quarter passes it; but in all the assembly there is no sound. The rocking-chair has ceased rocking. Bobby's sneeze has stopped half-way. There is a petrified silence. At length, "Marry you!" says the Brat, in a deeply-accented tone of low and awed disbelief. "Why, he was at school with father!"
We can only measure time by uniform motion. Observe the vicious circle. Uniform motion means the covering of equal spaces in equal times. But how are we to determine our equal times? Ultimately we have no other criterion save the uniform motion of the clock-hand or the star dial. The very expressions, "uniform motion," "equal times," beg the whole question of the nature of time.
I was at a concert in Munich one night, the people were streaming in, the clock-hand pointed to seven, the music struck up, and instantly all movement in the body of the house ceased nobody was standing, or walking up the aisles, or fumbling with a seat, the stream of incomers had suddenly dried up at its source.
They generally speak of motives in a man as if they were a mere kind of dead chart or spiritual geography in him, or clock-hand on him or map of his soul. The motives and desires in a man are the motors or engines in him, the central power house in a man, the thing in him that makes him go. All a man has to do to live suddenly and unexpectedly a big life is to have suddenly a big motive.
In summer this bar of shadow moved like a clock-hand on the green dial of the pasture, and the help could tell the time by the slant of it. Lone Pine had a mighty girth at the bottom, and its bare body tapered into the sky as straight as an arrow.
'It is very strange, she continued, 'to have the days and nights smeared into one piece, as if the clock-hand only went round once in a lifetime. 'That is how it is, he admitted, touched by her eloquence. 'You have torn the labels off things, and they all are so different. This morning! It does seem absurd to talk about this morning.
"I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell." Are such strange hauntings of our House of Life due to the cyclic return of time? Perhaps, but what is time? Suppose some one should ask you, "What is an hour?" Your answer might be, "It is the interval marked off by the clock-hand between 1 and 2." "But what if your clock is running down or speeding up?"
I was at a concert in Munich one night, the people were streaming in, the clock-hand pointed to seven, the music struck up, and instantly all movement in the body of the house ceased nobody was standing, or walking up the aisles, or fumbling with a seat, the stream of incomers had suddenly dried up at its source.
The clock-hand, intent upon its second, oblivious of its predecessors, incredulous of those to come, was near halfway to midnight when Ruth Thrale, rising from beside her mother, came to her fellow-watchers in the front-room and said: "I think she moved." Both came to the bedside. Yes she had moved a little, and was trying to speak.
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