Rewind Time Quotes

1. I’m lonely so I do lonely things 2. Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same. 3. You hate women, just like your father and his father, so it runs in your blood. 4. I was wandering the derelict car park of your heart looking for a ride home. 5. You’re a ghost town I’m too patriotic to leave. 6. I stay because you’re the beginning of the dream I want to remember. 7. I didn’t call him back because he likes his girls voiceless. 8. It’s not that he wants to be a liar; it’s just that he doesn’t know the truth. 9. I couldn’t love you, you were a small war. 10. We covered the smell of loss with jokes. 11. I didn’t want to fail at love like our parents. 12. You made the nomad in me build a house and stay. 13. I’m not a dog. 14. We were trying to prove our blood wrong. 15. I was still lonely so I did even lonelier things. 16. Yes, I’m insecure, but so was my mother and her mother. 17. No, he loves me he just makes me cry a lot. 18. He knows all of my secrets and still wants to kiss me. 19. You were too cruel to love for a long time. 20. It just didn’t work out. 21. My dad walked out one afternoon and never came back. 22. I can’t sleep because I can still taste him in my mouth. 23. I cut him out at the root, he was my favorite tree, rotting, threatening the foundations of my home. 24. The women in my family die waiting. 25. Because I didn’t want to die waiting for you. 26. I had to leave, I felt lonely when he held me. 27. You’re the song I rewind until I know all the words and I feel sick. 28. He sent me a text that said “I love you so bad.” 29. His heart wasn’t as beautiful as his smile 30. We emotionally manipulated one another until we thought it was love. 31. Forgive me, I was lonely so I chose you. 32. I’m a lover without a lover. 33. I’m lovely and lonely. 34. I belong deeply to myself .

Let me tell you what you feel like when you know you are ready to die. You sleep a lot, and when you wake up the very first thought in your head is that you wish you could go back to bed. You go entire days without eating, because food is a commodity that keeps you here. You read the same page a hundred times. You rewind your life like a videocassette and see the things that make you weep, things that make you pause, but nothing that makes you want to play it forward. You forget to comb your hair, to shower, to dress. And then one day, when you make the decision that you have enough energy left in you to do this one, last, monumental thing, there comes a peace. Suddenly you are counting moments as you haven’t for months. Suddenly you have a secret that makes you smile, that makes people say you look wonderful, although you feel like a shell-brittle and capable of cracking into a thousand pieces.

There were times where all we want is to Play the laughter, Pause the memories, Stop the pain and Rewind the happiness.

One nice thing about heaven is that you can relive all your favorite moments and memories pretty much as many times as you want—sort of like a DVD of your whole life. Pause, rewind, fast-forward, slowwww motion, all day, every day.

We can't rewind the past, nor fast-forward the future, so today, all we can do is play, record, pause and keep moving, until something should press the stop button.

You know, nothing ever goes back exactly the way it was. Things just expand and contract. Like the universe, like breathing. But you'll never fill your lungs up with the same air twice. Sometimes, it would be cool if you could pause and rewind and do over. But I think anyone would get tired of that after one or two times.

The paint is drying, and time is dying. The pain is crying, lying on my back, trying to get back the time, to brushstrokes too fast, wet went dry and love went dull; now I live in a portrait I never painted.

I wanted to go back to a time before all the sacrifices had been made. Before I had experienced so much pain. But making things right could not mean rewinding the clock. Even Kronos hadn't had that much power over time. I suspected that wasn't what Jason Grace would want, either. When he'd told me to remember being human, he'd meant building on pain and tragedy, overcoming it, learning from it. That was something gods never did. We just complained. To be human is to move forward, to adapt, to believe in your ability to make things better. That is the only way to make the pain and sacrifice mean something.

You want to arrest the clocks, stop everything for half a second, give yourself a chance to do it over again, rewind the life, uncrash the car, run it backward, have her lifted miraculously back into the windshield, unshatter the glass, go about your day umtouched, some old, lost sweet tasting time.

I believe, if there is some sort of higher power, the universe is it. Whenever religious people ask me where the universe came from, I tell them that it has always been here, and was never created. The Big Bang theory is based on the fact that the universe is expanding right now. And if you rewind the tape, the universe appears to be shrinking. If you rewind the tape far enough, eventually the universe must be just one singular point. Or so the theory goes. But what if the universe has not always been expanding? What if it's pulsating, and one pulse takes trillions of years, and right now the universe is inhaling, and before that, trillions of years ago, it was exhaling?

There's something I have to say," I said seriously, looking her in the eye. She smiled. "Oookay." She was mocking me-mocking my tone-but I didn't care. "Okay. Here it is. I love you," I said. "And I never, ever wanted to hurt you. It's like, the number one thing I never want to do, but somehow, I keep doing it. And I'm sorry, I just...that's all I wanted to say all this time. All I was trying to do...with that thing with your dad, not telling you...was not to hurt you. And I'm sorry that I did. Alley stared at me. "And I'm sorry that I did it again. With the Chloe thing. Which was stupid. Like, really, really, stupid. And I-" "Can you just stop, for a second?" Ally said, holding up a hand. "What?" I said. "Can you say the first part again?" she asked, rolling her fingers around for a rewind. I racked my brain. "Um...I love you?" I said. "That's the part, Cuz I love you, too.

It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. It's in the past, so let's leave it there. Plus, if we could rewind time and fix our mistakes, we'd never learn from them. Right?

When I think about all the time I wasted feeling guilty and ashamed about things I should have embraced long ago, it fills me with guilt and shame.

Once upon a time we’d been an almost perfect family. I wish we could rewind, go back to live in those years forever.

Mom said, "His spirit is there," and that made me really angry. I told her, "Dad didn't have a spirit! He had cells!" "His memory is there." "His memory is here," I said, pointing at my head. "Dad had a spirit," she said, like she was rewinding a bit in our conversation. I told her, "He had cells, and now they're on rooftops, and in the river, and in the lungs of millions of people around New York, who breathe him every time they speak!

What would I give for a remote control with a button to slow down time, or even rewind a little bit?

Working hard is not a waste of time, but a state of mind. Keep pushing your limits until you reach the edge. Then be kind and rewind.

I need to stop saying LMAO because that is precisely what's happening; I wish I could rewind time by two decades, immortalize my derriere in wax, and then kiss it goodbye.

I want to rewind the clock, take back the night when the world shattered. I want to erase everything that went wrong.

I wanted to rewind time to feel those brief seconds again because I will never going to get the chance to feel that again.

Because you can only get older, you can't rewind time and go backward. You can try, but one day you’ll look back and wish you were twelve again and nothing bad had ever happened to you.

I listen to the clock striking out each determined tick. If only I could rewind, go back in time and ask my mother every question about every tiny thing. How crucial those little fragments are now; how great their absence. I should have saved them up, gathering them like drops of water in a desert. I'd always counted on having an oasis.

You have a strange look on your face,” he said. “I just realized I shouldn’t be in the same vehicle with you. In fact, I shouldn’t have called you in the first place, so I’m trying very hard to rewind time.

If only I could rewind, go back in time and ask my mother every question about every tiny thing. How crucial those little fragments are now; how great their absence. I should have saved them up, gathered them like drops of water in a desert. I’d always counted on having an oasis.

You cannot fast-forward time, you cannot rewind it, and you cannot pause it; you can only waste or benefit from it.

They walk on endlessly. Time elongates, fractures, rewinds and replays in stuttering moments that - while they have no coherent internal logic - all seem drearily familiar and inevitable.

But to be a parent is to live in the past-present-future all at once. It is to hug your children and be intensely aware of how much smaller they felt last year ... even as you wonder how much bigger they will feel the next. It is to be a time-shifter, to marvel at the budding of their intellect, their verbal dexterity, their sense of humor ... at the same time rewinding and fast-forwarding ... to when they were younger, to when they'll be older. It is to experience longing for the here and now, which I know sounds flaky - sort of like complaining about being homesick when you're already home - but can happen, trust me, when you live in multiple time zones all at once.

The camera is a remarkable thing, you think, with its ability to transform the mundane into an immortal moment able to travel through time, reappear days or months or years after its actually occurrence. Every second of our existence is alive with possibility, but we don’t see it until we hit rewind, until we freeze the frame. It is sad that so many things, all suffused with meaning, escape the unaided eye.

Time crawls when you are bored, walks when you are occupied, runs when you are busy, but flies when you are having fun. You cannot fast-forward it, you cannot rewind it, and you cannot pause it; you can only waste or benefit from it.

It is unfair that life doesn’t come with a rewind button; an undo button that can reset time after you make a terrible mistake.

Hey, I am only fourteen, what do you expect, I can be remembered as a sinner. I need to rewind the time turner some and relive the past to see what I am missing; I have the magical power.

Life is a journey where we don't want to arrive at our final destination too soon, unfortunately many of us live from day to day and some very rarely explore life's rich tapestry or take time to focus on what they really want out of life. Go explore every aspect of your life, we can't rewind or push the pause button, live life and live it well.

For him time stood still and then every few years accelerated in a rush, like the quick re-wind of a film, but for Nicole the years slipped away by clock and calendar and birthday, with the added poignance of her perishable beauty.

People always say you should trust your instincts. I wish I’d trusted mine. I wish I could rewind time to the day I knocked on his door. I wish I’d never looked into his eyes. And most of all, I wish he’d never looked back into mine.

time doesn't wait on us; it doesn't pause for us to play. it doesn't stop for us to complete our dreams; it moves forward either way. it doesn't press rewind; a moment passed is a moment lost. if you didn't speak your heart, then regret will be the cost. time goes on forever, but our time will surely end. if you don't make the most of the time you have, then time is not your friend.

Core needs for children include, but are not limited to, receiving adequate levels of time, love, and attention, along with meeting their needs to feel heard, validated, and understood. When these needs aren’t met, there is no way to rewind to the beginning of life in a way that enables any outside love relationship to heal or meet your core needs. Research naively suggests we seek other relationships outside our family to supply our basic needs of love, acceptance, and emotional support. Although other love relationships are fundamental, necessary, and important to our overall well-being, I believe it is not only inappropriate for us to put this type of pressure on others to fill the needs our family neglected, but this request is also impossible to satisfy. It is unwise and emotionally dangerous to assume anyone could meet the core needs that can be met only by the family we were born into. The unfortunate message from this type of information is that other people can heal our wounds and meet our core needs when, ultimately, we need to learn to heal our own wounds and meet our own needs.

This time, something different happens, though. It’s the daydreaming that does it. I’m doing the usual thing—imagining in tiny detail the entire course of the relationship, from first kiss, to bed, to moving in together, to getting married (in the past I have even organized the track listing of the party tapes), to how pretty she’ll look when she’s pregnant, to names of children—until suddenly I realize that there’s nothing left to actually, like, happen. I’ve done it all, lived through the whole relationship in my head. I’ve watched the film on fast-forward; I know the whole plot, the ending, all the good bit. Now I’ve got to rewind and watch it all over again in real time, and where’s the fun in that? And fucking … when’s it all going to fucking stop? I’m going to jump from rock to rock for the rest of my life until there aren’t any rocks left? I’m going to run each time I get itchy feet? Because I get them about once a quarter, along with the utilities bills. More than that, even, during British Summer Time. I’ve been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, between you and me, I have come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

Riley sensed the shift before it actually happened: Mack turning his smile, his focus on Maisy. She felt the desperate desire to rewind time, to undo the act of Maisy running toward them. Even before the change occurred, Riley knew that it would happen eventually, so why not now? Riley was bland gray compared to Maisy’s radiant light.

Recall Aesop’s fable of the fox and the grapes. After trying in vain to reach the grapes, the fox gives up and wanders away, muttering, “They were probably sour anyway.” The fox’s change of heart is a perfect example of a common strategy we instinctively use to reduce dissonance. When we experience a conflict between our beliefs and our actions, we can’t rewind time and take back what we’ve already done, so we adjust our beliefs to bring them in line with our actions. If the story had gone differently, and the fox had managed to get the grapes, only to discover they were sour, he would have told himself that he liked sour grapes in order to avoid feeling that his effort had been a waste.

Welcome to life. Sometimes it's terrifying. Other times, transcendent. The trick is not to let the fear keep you from the joy.

Is it possible to find your future in the past?

Maybe the lesson here is that it doesn’t matter how many times you rewind, there’s always something you’re going to regret.

Every time I thought about our conversation beneath the tree, I wanted to rewind and freeze time so we could stay in that moment forever.

As he sat on the side of the bed, he felt the room, the house and the night as empty. In the next room Nicole muttered something in her sleep. For him time stood still and then every few years accelerated in a rush, like the quick re-wind of a film, but for Nicole the years slipped away by clock and calendar and birthday, with the added poignance of her perishable beauty.

He said only three words, but it was everything he didn’t say that I heard loudest. Because you see, I was waiting for him to tell me why. How. I was waiting for him to tell me he was kidding, or that I’d misheard him. I was waiting for him to take it back, to rewind time, to let me figure out how I hadn’t seen it coming. But he didn’t say any of that. He said only three words. “I’m getting married.

Sliding Doors and Run Lola Run (1998)—These two movies, neither of which is technically science fiction, were released in the same year. We see the idea of timelines branching from a single point which lead to different outcomes. In the example of Sliding Doors, a separate timeline branches off of the first timeline and then exists in parallel for some time, overlapping the main timeline, before merging back in. In Run Lola Run, on the other hand, we see Lola trying to rescue her boyfriend Manni by rewinding what happened and making different choices multiple times. We see visually what running our Core Loop might look like in a real-world, high-stress situation.

If I were capable of human emotions, tears of joy would have been streaming down my face. You know that feeling you experience upon witnessing the birth of your first child? It was like that, only a thousand times better, because free burritos were involved.

There is nothing that the media could say to me that would justify the way they’ve acted. You can hound me. You can follow me, but in no way should you frighten those around me. To harm my wife and potentially harm my daughter—there is no excuse that could put any of you on the right side of morality. I met Rose when I was fifteen and she was fourteen, and through what she would call fate and I’d call circumstance of our hobbies, we’d cross paths dozens of times over the course of a decade. At seventeen, I attended the same national Model UN conference as Rose, and a delegate for Greenland locked us in a janitorial closet. He also stole our phones. He had to beat us dishonorably because he couldn’t beat us any other way. Rose said being locked in a confined space with me was the worst two hours of her life" They look bemused, brows furrowing. I can’t help but smile. “You’re confused because you don’t know whether she was exaggerating or whether she was being truthful. But the truth is that we are complex people with the ability to love to hate and to hate to love, and I wouldn’t trade her for any other person. So that day, stuck beside mops and dirtied towels, I could’ve picked the lock five minutes in and let her go. Instead, I purposefully spent two hours with a girl who wore passion like a dress made of diamonds and hair made of flames. Every day of my life, I am enamored. Every day of my life, I am bewitched. And every day of my life, I spend it with her.” My chest swells with more power, lifting me higher. “I’ve slept with many different kinds of people, and yes, the three that spoke to the press are among them. Rose is the only person I’ve ever loved, and through that love, we married and started a family. There is no other meaning behind this, and for you to conjure one is nothing less than a malicious attack against my marriage and my child. Anything else has no relevance. I can’t be what you need me to be. So you’ll have to accept this version or waste your time questioning something that has no answer. I know acceptance isn’t easy when you’re unsure of what you’re accepting, but all I can say is that you’re accepting me as me. I leave them with a quote from Sylvia Plath. “‘I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart.’” My lips pull higher, into a livelier smile. “‘I am, I am, I am.’” With this, I step away from the podium, and I exit to a cacophony of journalists shouting and asking me to clarify. Adapt to me. I’m satisfied, more than I even predicted. Some people will rewind this conference on their television, to listen closely and try to understand me. I don’t need their understanding, but my daughter will—and I hope the minds of her peers are wide open with vibrant hues of passion. I hope they all paint the world with color.

Although you may not be able to physically rewind your experiences, a visual rewind may reveal aspects which you may have missed the first time around. By mentally rewinding scenarios for your life, relationships, experiences, and behavior, you can look back with focused attention to see things more objectively.

You know, nothing ever goes back exactly the way it was. Things just expand and contract. Like the universe, like breathing. But you’ll never fill your lungs up with the same air twice. Sometimes, it would be cool if you could pause and rewind and do over. But I think anyone would get tired of that after one or two times.

The brothers are so different, polar opposites in fact, that I find myself drawn to each one for different reasons. One is so strong and responsible; so much so, not even death can keep him from taking care of those he loves. The other, broken and lost, wishing time could rewind on one hand, but using any method necessary to forget time on the other.

Joey threw a rock too. “Yep,” he said. “You know, nothing ever goes back exactly the way it was. Things just expand and contract. Like the universe, like breathing. But you’ll never fill your lungs up with the same air twice. Sometimes, it would be cool if you could pause and rewind and do over. But I think anyone would get tired of that after one or two times.

You remember the dialogue you had with yourself, you can quote the emotion word for word, as if you’re still there, as if it matters that you can map in detail the geographies of regret. It starts with a hope and ends with a turn of the stomach: a cringe at the excuses you make for your heart, a momentary forever you remember on alternate days over coffee and novels that hit too close to home. You cry because you know the point at which you could have turned back but didn’t, could have taken time by the throat and resisted, could have ignored the phone, answered that message, said no, said yes, said nothing, smiled - whatever it is that you didn’t do. But by the time that moment ends, it is over and you are in too deep, wondering why there exists no rewind button for the soul, no second chance for the petty player, no backup plan for those who risk everything on nothing, all at once.

According to lore, one of Mother Barnes early customers was a young attorney who introduced himself merely as John. He asked Mother Barnes where the capital of the soon-to-be province of Canada would be located. Gazing through time, she told the young attorney that the capital would be Bytown, and then surprised him by saying he would one day become the leader of this new province. The man, of course, was John A. Macdonald, who did indeed become prime minister of Canada, and went on to live in the new capital, the name of which would change from Bytown to Ottawa shortly after his visit to the witch. Macdonald told the story of his visit to the "Witch of Plum Hollow" many times, the story becoming more entertaining as the years passed.

I would dance all day in my basement listening to Off the Wall. You young people really don’t understand how magical Michael Jackson was. No one thought he was strange. No one was laughing. We were all sitting in front of our TVs watching the “Thriller” video every hour on the hour. We were all staring, openmouthed, as he moonwalked for the first time on the Motown twenty-fifth anniversary show. When he floated backward like a funky astronaut, I screamed out loud. There was no rewinding or rewatching. No next-day memes or trends on Twitter or Facebook posts. We would call each other on our dial phones and stretch the cord down the hall, lying on our stomachs and discussing Michael Jackson’s moves, George Michael’s facial hair, and that scene in Purple Rain when Prince fingers Apollonia from behind. Moments came and went, and if you missed them, you were shit out of luck. That’s why my parents went to a M*A*S*H party and watched the last episode in real time. There was no next-day M*A*S*H cast Google hangout. That’s why my family all squeezed onto one couch and watched the USA hockey team win the gold against evil Russia! We all wept as my mother pointed out every team member from Boston. (Everyone from Boston likes to point out everyone from Boston. Same with Canadians.) We all chanted “USA!” and screamed “YES!” when Al Michaels asked us if we believed in miracles. Things happened in real time and you watched them together. There was no rewind. HBO arrived in our house that same year. We had

10 Watch EQ at the Movies Hollywood. It’s the entertainment capital of the world known for glitz, glamour, and celebrity. Believe it or not, Hollywood is also a hotbed of EQ, ripe for building your social awareness skills. After all, art imitates life, right? Movies are an abundant source of EQ skills in action, demonstrating behaviors to emulate or completely avoid. Great actors are masters at evoking real emotion in themselves; as their characters are scripted to do outrageous and obvious things, it’s easy to observe the cues and emotions on-screen. To build social awareness skills, you need to practice being aware of what’s happening with other people; it doesn’t matter if you practice using a box office hero or a real person. When you watch a movie to observe social cues, you’re practicing social awareness. Plus, since you are not living the situation, you’re not emotionally involved, and the distractions are limited. You can use your mental energy to observe the characters instead of dealing with your own life. This month, make it a point to watch two movies specifically to observe the character interactions, relationships, and conflicts. Look for body language clues to figure out how each character is feeling and observe how the characters handle the conflicts. As more information about the characters unfold, rewind and watch past moments to spot clues you may have missed the first time. Believe it or not, watching movies from the land of make-believe is one of the most useful and entertaining ways to practice your social awareness skills for the real world.

some older people who need to sit down, Barb. We can’t put chairs out. I don’t want them to get too comfy or we’ll never get rid of them.’ ‘Oh, you’re being ridiculous.’ Henry is thinking that this is a fine time to call him ridiculous. He never wanted the stupid vigil. In bed last night they had another spit-whispered row about it. We could have it at the front of the house, Barbara had said when the vicar called by. Henry had quite explicitly said he would not support anything churchy – anything that would feel like a memorial service. But the vicar had said the idea of a vigil was exactly the opposite. That the community would like to show that they have not given up. That they continue to support the family. To pray for Anna’s safe return. Barbara was delighted and it was all agreed. A small event at the house. People would walk from the village, or park on the industrial estate and walk up the drive. ‘This was your idea, Barbara.’ ‘The vicar’s, actually. People just want to show support. That is what this is about.’ ‘This is ghoulish, Barb. That’s what this is.’ He moves the tractor across the yard again, depositing two more bales of straw alongside the others. ‘There. That should be enough.’ Henry looks across at his wife and is struck by the familiar contradiction. Wondering how on earth they got here. Not just since Anna disappeared, but across the twenty-two years of their marriage. He wonders if all marriages end up like this. Or if he is simply a bad man. For as Barbara sweeps her hair behind her ear and tilts up her chin, Henry can still see the full lips, perfect teeth and high cheekbones that once made him feel so very differently. It’s a pendulum that still confuses him, makes him wish he could rewind. To go back to the Young Farmers’ ball, when she smelled so divine and everything seemed so easy and hopeful. And he is wishing, yes, that he could go back and have another run. Make a better job of it. All of it. Then he closes his eyes. The echo again of Anna’s voice next to him in the car. You disgust me, Dad. He wants the voice to stop. To be quiet. Wants to rewind yet again. To when Anna was little and loved him, collected posies on Primrose Lane. To when he was her hero and she wanted to race him back to the house for tea. Barbara is now looking across the yard to the brazier. ‘You’re going to light a fire, Henry?’ ‘It will be cold. Yes.’ ‘Thank you. I’m doing soup in mugs, too.’ A pause then. ‘You really think this is a mistake, Henry? I didn’t realise it would upset you quite so much. I’m sorry.’ ‘It’s OK, Barbara. Let’s just make the best of it now.’ He slams the tractor into reverse and moves it out of the yard and back into its position inside the barn. There, in the semi-darkness, his heartbeat finally begins to settle and he sits very still on the tractor, needing the quiet, the stillness. It was their reserve position, to have the vigil under cover in this barn, if the weather was bad. But it has been a fine day. Cold but with a clear, bright sky, so they will stay out of doors. Yes. Henry rather hopes the cold will drive everyone home sooner, soup or no soup. And now he thinks he will sit here for a while longer, actually. Yes. It’s nice here alone in the barn. He finds

Okay,let's do it," Robbie said, slapping his hands together as he stood. He stepped towards me with his arms outstreched and I tripped back. " What? No" " What? Yes," he said. He hit the rewind button and the tape zipped backward. He paused it right as the dance began. " You don't really expect me to ask Tama to dance with me without any practice. Even I'm not that stupid." I was suddenly very aware of my heartbeat. " There's no way I'm dancing with you." " You really know how to stroke a guy's ego," Robbie joked. "Come on. I'm not that repulsive." "You're not repulsive at all, it's just-" " Well, that's good to hear," Robbie said with a teasing smile. He was enjoying this. "it's just that I don't dance," I admitted. Never had. Not once. Not with a guy. I was a dance free-zone. " Well, neither do II mean, except on stage. But i've never danced like this, so we're even" he said. He hit "play". The music started and Robbie pulled me toward him by my wrist. he grabbed my hand, which was sweating, and held it, then put his other hand on my waist. My boobs pressed sgsinst his chest and I flinched, but Robbie didn't seem to notice. He was too busy consulting the TV screen. " Here goes nothing," he said. "Okay, it's a waltz, so one, two, three,,, one, two, three. Looks like a big step on one and two little steps on two and three. Got it?" "Sure." I so didn't have it. " Okay, go." He started to step in a circle, pulling me with him.I staggered along, mortified. " One, two, three. One two, three," he counted under his breath. My foot caught on his ankle. " Oops! Sorry." I was sweating like mad now, wishing I'd taken off my sweater, at least. " I got ya," he said, his grip tightiening on my hand. " K eep going." " One, two, three," I counted, staring down at our feet. He slammed one of his hip into one of the set chairs. " Ow. Dammit!" " Are you okay?"I asked."Yeah. Keep going," he said through his teeth. " One, two, three," I counted. I glanced up at the Tv screen, and the second I took my eyes off our feet, they got hopelessly tangled. I felt that instant swoop of gravity and shouted as we went down. The floor was not soft. " Oof?" " Ow. Okay, ow," Robbie said, grabbing his elbow. " That was not a good bone to fall on." He shook his arm out and I brought my knees up under my chin. " Maybe this wasn't the best idea." "No! No. We cannot give up that easily," Robbie said, standing. He took my hands and hoisted my up. " Maybe we just need to simplify it a little. " Actually i think its the twirl and the dip at the end that are really important," I theorized. It seemed like the most romantic part to me. " Okay, good." Robbie was phsyched by this development. "So maybe instead of going in circles, we just step side to side and do the twirl thing a couple of times. " Sounds like a plan," I said. " Let's do it." Robbie rewound the tape and we started from the beginning of the music. He took my hand again and held it up, then placed his other hand on my waist. This time we simply swayed back and forth. I was just getting used to the motion, when I realized that Robbie was staring at me.Big time." What?" i said, my skin prickling. " Trying to make eye contact," he said. " I hear eye contact while dancing is key." " Where would you hear something like that?" I said. " My grandmother. She's a wise woman," he said. His grandmother. How cute was that? His eyes were completely focused on my face. I tried to stare back into them, but I keep cracking up laughing. And he thought I'd make a good actress. " Wow. You suck at eye contact," he said. "Come on. Give me something to work here." I took a deep breath and steeled myself. It's just Robbie Delano, KJ. You can do this. And so I did. I looked right back into his eyes. And we continued to sway at to the music. His hand around mine. His hand on my waist. Our chests pressed together. I stared into his eyes, and soon i found that laughing was the last thing on my mind. " How's this working for you?

Time doesn't rewind. It only heals.

Let’s rewind ten seconds to when my cute, sweet, amazing boyfriend was leaning in to kiss me for the first time ever. I was excited and a little nervous but I wanted him to kiss me so badly. I wanted my first ever kiss to be at that moment with him. In my mind, it was going to be perfect. The perfect kiss with the perfect boyfriend. One that I’d never forget. Now, let’s go forward ten seconds. He hadn’t kissed me yet. Instead, we were both sitting on the boardwalk wall, soaked through. I wanted to cry, but I stopped myself from doing it. Tears began to well in my eyes, and I quickly blinked them away. How could everything have gone from perfect to a disaster so quickly? We both screamed out when the water bomb exploded on us and then we were exchanging awkward looks. Worse still, I remained Remmy James, the girl who had never been kissed. What if I never had my first kiss? What if something always happened to mess it up? Or someone? I looked to see who had thrown the water bomb and spotted four girls wearing black baseball caps running up the boardwalk. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I knew exactly who they were. I mean, who else could they be? They had to be the vampires and their newest member…Sydney! My first near kiss was definitely something I’d never forget, but not for the right reasons. Vampires, I don’t like them at all. Maybe I should have stocked up on garlic or something. Then again, Charlie wouldn’t have wanted to kiss me if I smelled of garlic.

We don’t have time, we just have a moment in time.

Some might question whether it makes sense to talk about setting up the experiment and running it again with exactly the same conditions--that it is, in fact, impossible. Locally, you might get the conditions exactly the same, but you have to embed the experiment in the universe, and that has moved on. You can't rewind the wave function of the universe and rerun it. The universe is a one-time-only experiment that includes us as part of its wave function, and there's no going back.

and restart. This time, put in realistic thoughts. Rewind your story and write a new ending. Determine a new outcome.[91]

I melt onto the couch, gasping, realizing I've never wanted anything as much as I want to rewind time and return to that kiss. And it scares me. The fact that something so beautiful and tenuous is within my grasp terrifies me because I know that, at some point, I will just end up losing it.

How to accept the reality of loss How to soothe the ache which is piercing my heart How to accept that I would no longer see your face How to wear a mask of coping when I am broken There is no way I can express the pain of losing you What wouldn’t I give to hear you talk back I pray to God to rewind the time, I wish I could have the last five minutes with you To hold you close and hug too tight To kiss your cheek and express my love To clutch your hand and beg you not to go!!

History is how you debug our broken society. Many billions of dollars are spent on history in the engineering world. We don’t think about it that way, though. We call it doing a post-mortem, looking over the log files, maybe running a so-called time-travel debugger to get a reproducible bug. Once we find it, we might want to execute an undo, do a git revert, restore from backup, or return to a previously known-good configuration. Think about what we’re saying: on a micro-scale, knowing the detailed past of the system allows us to figure out what had gone wrong. And being able to partially rewind the past to progress along a different branch (via a git revert) empowers us to fix that wrongness. This doesn’t mean throwing away everything and returning to the caveman era of a blank git repository, as per either the caricatured traditionalist who wants to “turn back the clock” or the anarcho-primitivist who wants to end industrialized civilization. But it does mean rewinding a bit to then move forward along a different path16, because progress has both magnitude and direction.

Rewind five hundred years, before the Spanish arrived: Zócalo was the center of Tenochtitlán, the Aztec island metropolis that was one of the world’s largest cities. Workers building a subway line in the 1970s found leftover pyramids. Tepito has been an active market since Aztec days too. “In Mexico,” wrote novelist Carlos Fuentes, “all times are living, all pasts are present.

What moment in the gradual decay Does resurrection choose? What year? What day? Who has the stopwatch? Who rewinds the tape? Are some less lucky, or do all escape? A syllogism: other men die; but I Am not another; therefore I'll not die. Space is swarming in the eyes; and time, A singing in the ears. In this hive I'm Locked up. Yet, if prior to life we had Been able to imagine life, what mad, Impossible unutterably weird, Wonderful nonsense it might have appeared!

Food-for-thoughts A moment of reflection & remembrance! Life's road signs!! Going back in life, way back, it is amazing that I can vividly remember the signs that was set up in my path! The ones I followed and the ones l ignored, amazing that I can remember all God's way of telling me which direction he chose for me. The ones l ignored, he told me that this is not my way that he designed my life to be, not necessary a bad one and not even a good one, just not the one designed for me to follow. The ones I followed, is also the same, I just followed because it took me to what God set up for me. Did I like the fact that l ignored some or maybe lots of those signs? At the time, I never thought about it in such away, never!! I thought that I just took the decision to ignore or to follow because that is what I want to !! But little that I know that I was totally blind folded to follow what God designed for me which I guess it is called the "God's chosen path". Now, rewinding, I never regret or being proud of my decision at the time of ignoring or choosing a sign, but yes, sometimes I had to face the circumstances of my choice, some hurt a lot, and many other was good for me, or at least that what I felt at the time. We always say, "I did that" , and "I didn't do that", but we forget that we just walking a designed path that we have very little to do with choosing, succeeding or failing. We are so naive and ridiculously stupid to think in such a way. I did believe in this fact a lot and maybe that's why I took roads and ways that anyone in his right mind, will never take because it was very dangerous, risky, and in sometimes life-threatening decisions and roads, however I never had any fear in walking the walk, never!! Always smiling and yes sometimes smiling mixed with tears from the pain, nevertheless, I smiled. Call me crazy, well I don't mind at all ! Now, when going back to what might had happened or the risks I was taking, I honestly say, I was so stupid and crazy to say the least. But again, it was what had been designed for me, and I will do it all over again, if it is in my choice right now to reach what I am in right now, except one thing only, which is the marriage, a bad investment emotionally and financially!! I so much believed and still believing that I just have one life that can end in any moment regardless of what decision I took or didn't take ! if it meant to be getting hurt or the end of my life, so let it be, and it is God's decision and nothing to do with me. Yes, way back, I did and still totally believe in this fact. Well, life is a rollercoaster, the deeper, faster, steeper, and crazier, the more enjoyable it is. Reaching this edge of life, give you a such sensational feelings nothing can surpass. Maybe my believe in God's gave me the power and pleasure to take chances and reach this edge of life. Just leave life in style and without worries and regrets because it will happen regardless!!! Life is always what we make it to be! Or this what we think it is !!

What he wanted the filmmakers to do was to somehow crawl inside time and rewind it, to upend chronology, reverse it and channel it in an entirely different direction – like a Borges story – so that the light was brighter, and the chairs were righted, and the street was ordered, the café was intact, and Smadar was suddenly walking along again, her hair short, her nose pierced, arm in arm with her schoolgirl friends, sauntering past the café, sharing the Walkman, the smell of coffee sharp in her nostrils, caught in the banality of not caring what happens next.

I’m sure he wishes I were Emily. I don’t blame him; I wish I were Emily half the time, too.

Myron stopped at a red light. He was close, so goddamn close. TC was helping Greg hide; he was sure of it. But of course, TC was only part of the solution. None of this answered the central question in all this: Who killed Liz Gorman? He put his mind on rewind and reviewed the night of the murder. He thought about Clip being the first of the three to arrive. In many ways, Clip was now his best suspect. But Myron still saw big problems with that scenario. What was Clip’s motive, for example? Yes, Liz Gorman’s information may have been detrimental to the team. The information may have even been potent enough for him to lose the vote. But would Clip pick up a baseball bat and murder a woman over that? People kill for money and power all the time. Would Clip? But

Oh, hey Duncan.” Duncan sat up straight in the chair, his hips screaming at the roughness of the motion. “Alex?” “Yes, I was looking for Shannon.” He blinked and swallowed down the disappointment. Of course. “She can’t answer right now.” Something must have come through in his voice because hers sharpened. “Is she all right? What’s happened? Not the babies…” “No,” he assured her quickly. “The babies are fine right now. Shannon was involved in a traffic accident. I don’t think she’s too injured, but they are checking her out.” There was silence on the other end of the line. He cleared his throat. “How are you doing?” For some reason the silence got even more weighty. “I’m fine,” she whispered, but he could have sworn he heard tears in her voice. “I have to go.” Duncan cringed, wishing he knew what to say or do to make things right between them again. “Alex, I miss you.” I love you. “I miss you too,” she whispered, then hung up. Duncan stared at the receiver in his hand for a long time, wishing he could rewind time. He hung up slowly, wondering how on earth he could get his life back on track. Alex’s heartbroken voice tugged at him, and he felt like an ass for being the one to screw everything up.

I will no longer get weighted down, From so-called friends & family talks, About the concern for my biological clock When I serve the Author of Time. Who is NOT subject to time, But I’M subject to Him, He has the ability to STOP, FAST FORWARD, PAUSE, or REWIND at any given time…

I wanted life to be a film so that I could rewind it to when I first saw Gringo on the big screen. I was sitting happily between Flathead and Hercules, feeling the luckiest and most protected child in the world. Back to the time when I rode with Happiness on the bike in Qala, when Aida and I first kissed, and when Papula and I danced under the cascading water from the hose. I did not want to stop running, or stop thinking of those wonderful times when I had been happy,

Our enemy may have evolved the ability to rewind time, but humanity had evolved a few tricks of its own. There were people who could keep a Jacket in tip-top condition, people who could conjure up strategies and handle logistics, people who could provide support on the front lines, and last but not least, people who were natural-born killers

In October 2009, Time magazine devoted an entire issue to “The State of the American Woman.” One writer pointed out that, ironically, as women have gained more education, more economic independence, more power, and more freedom, they have become less and less happy. According to evidence gathered by numerous surveys, they are unhappier now than when the feminist movement set about to solve the problem of women’s unhappiness.7 Clearly, the new model of womanhood is even less fulfilling than the old one was. The solution isn’t to try to rewind the clock to the 1950s, and squeeze women back into that culture’s “Leave It to Beaver” stereotype. No. The solution—the biblical solution—is to embrace the Word of God, and ask Him to help us figure out how to live out His divine design in this culture. Truly “smart girls” know that the place to get more know-how, freedom, and joy is in a relationship with Christ—the One “in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col. 2:3).

There's always a tragic feeling when you believe you've wasted an opportunity in your life. Time isn't rewindable. Mistakes become future guideposts.

We know where a song’s popularity starts, and we can watch it spread,” Titus told me. Take, for example, Lorde, the out-of-nowhere sensation of 2013. Shazam’s engineers can rewind time to trace the international contagion of her first single, “Royals,

I wasn't much for regrets, but I wish that I could rewind time.

Then came “Satisfaction,” the track that launched us into global fame. I was between girlfriends at the time, in my flat in Carlton Hill, St. John’s Wood. Hence maybe the mood of the song. I wrote “Satisfaction” in my sleep. I had no idea I’d written it, it’s only thank God for the little Philips cassette player. The miracle being that I looked at the cassette player that morning and I knew I’d put a brand-new tape in the previous night, and I saw it was at the end. Then I pushed rewind and there was “Satisfaction.” It was just a rough idea. There was just the bare bones of the song, and it didn’t have that noise, of course, because I was on acoustic. And forty minutes of me snoring. But the bare bones is all you need. I had that cassette for a while and I wish I’d kept

If I could rewind time and go back ten years, I’d do a lot of things differently,” I said. “Including beefing up the DJ’s security.” And loving you the way you deserve.

And I think of you with every breath I take Waiting for that first breathless kiss And the moment you take my hand in yours as we dance around the room And when I hear your voice I listen intently to the loving words you say My mind presses rewind just to hear them over and over again Must be a hundred little Angels that just stepped in I dreamed of a knight and shining armor To sweep me off my firmly planted feet The kind where the writings of a silly fairy tale book Actually do come true I was in a far off land some time ago And now I've met you Such a beautiful soul But never did I know That you would find me Walking purposefully ahead on my journey alone Little did I know I think of you with every step I take Awaiting the moment you take my hand in yours And dance around the room.

Life is short, time is fast. There’s no replay, no rewind, no pause button. Now I have the “what next” thing to deal with.

The day before I'm supposed to be meeting Caroline for a drink, I develop all the text-book symptons of a crush: nervous stomach, long periods spent daydreaming, an inability to remember what she looks like. I can bring back the dress and the boots, and I can see a fringe, but her face is a blank, and I fill it in with some anonymous rent-a-cracker details - pouty red lips, even though it wax her well-scrubbed english clever-girl look that attracted me to her in the first place; almond-shaped eyes, even though she was wearing sunglasses most of the time; pale, perfect skin, even though I know there'll be an initial twinge of disappointment - this is what all that internal fuss is about? - and then I'll find something to get excited about again: the fact that she's turned up at all, a sexy voice, intelligence, wit, something. And between the second and the third meeting a whole new set of myths will be born. This time, something different happens, though. It's the daydreaming that does it. I'm doing the usual thing - imagining in tiny detail the entire course of the relationship, from first kiss, to bed, to moving in together, to getting married (in the past I have even organized the track listing of the party tapes), to how pretty she'll look when she's pregnant, to names of children - until suddenly I realize that there's nothing left to actually, like, happen. I've done it all, lived through the whole relationship in my head. I've watched the film on fast-forward; I know the whole plot, the ending, all the good bits. Now I've got to rewind and watch it all over again in real time, and where's the fun in that? And fucking... when it's all going to fucking stop? I'm going to jump from rock to rock for the rest of my life until there aren't any rocks left? I'm going to run each time I get itchy feet? Because I get them about once a quarter, along with the utilities bills... I've been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, between you and me, I have come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains.

Rewinding time is not possible, but do-overs are, Sometimes it’s better to restart and recreate something better After all every relationship is based on love And everything is worth one more try

Time was a kind editor.

I want to kick myself and hit the rewind button. Yinka, why, why, why would you bring up the promotion? You know Aunty Debbie hasn’t forgiven Ola for dropping out of uni when she fell pregnant the first time.

This is why, in business, it can be useful to be a time-shifter. Because if you happen to be someone who operates in the past-present-future all at once, you’re likely to see how an overabundance of positives could eventually give birth to a negative. You’re likely to see how the ceaselessness of the customer satisfaction treadmill could eventually become a recipe for madness. And you’re likely to see how the line separating the future perfect and the future imperfect can be tenuous indeed. The paradox of progress is that it makes things better, until it makes things worse. So if I have one piece of advice for you, for the time being, anyway, it is this. Play the story backward and play the story forward. Rewind, fast-forward, last year, next year. And try to envision your market through the lens of alternative future possibilities.

In a way, every song was a metaphor for every good time we had, clinging to the feeling and wishing it would stretch on forever. That’s why we’d rewind those tunes and sing ’em again—to hold on to that feeling as long as we possibly could.

You've had many situations where you want to rewind time! But life is telling you this: Did you make a move that knocked the glass down? If you did, the glass will fall to the ground and break! Live life carefully because time does not go backwards!

Life is short, time is fast. There’s no replay, no rewind, no pause button. Now I have the

Even if you weren't a time traveler, anything you did in life was going to lead to some kind of change. And really, there was no way for you to know what that change would be before it happened. You just had to do what you thought was right, and hope for the best.

It's okay to regret Its okay to reminisce It's okay to forget Everyone and everything is an experience Longterm; shorterm Life is short; time is fast No replay; no rewind Enjoy every moment as it comes

She found herself fantasizing about dying in order to be with Kyle. She didn’t literally want to die; she simply wished, with all her might, to rewind time. She wanted Kyle back. His return was the only thing that would remedy her irremediable pain. Her body, mind, heart, and soul were in a state of protest. WE

The key to surfing Kiera was entering the wild section at full speed...I had waves that teased me two, even three times, with the daylight hole speeding ahead, outrunning me, and then pausing and miraculously rewinding back toward me, the spilling lip seemingly twisting like the Iris of a camera lens opening until I was almost out of the hole, and then reversing and doing it again, receding in beautiful hopelessness and returning in even more beautiful hope. These were the longest tube rides of my life.

You brewed this?" Sanna cringed at the term brew, but didn't feel like going into the difference between brewing and fermenting- so she nodded and focused on her food. That way, she couldn't pay attention to how his long fingers held the glass in his hands as he studied the color. He may as well have been studying her. She felt exposed and naked as he took another sip. Did he like it? Hate it? Not everyone liked cider, and normally she didn't care. She didn't want to care now. Instead, she built the perfect forkful of Parmesan, lettuce, and crouton rather than watch him- but that didn't stop her from hearing the clink of glass on his teeth as he took a much longer sip. "That's astounding," he said. "It goes so much better with the meal than any red wine I've ever had." He smacked his lips and took another sip. "It really lets the food shine." Sanna had to respond. She couldn't ignore him no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn't keep eating, then escape with a plate of dessert to the loft as she usually did. She couldn't rewind time to the beginning of the summer when she only thought about the next cider she wanted to blend. Or ignore that the memory of him washing her hands after her dad's accident had played through her mind before she'd fallen asleep every night that week. "Thank you." That's all she could muster and hoped it would be enough. She could feel her father watching her, and Mrs. Dibble half listening to their very one-sided conversation. She sipped her own cider and enjoyed the burst of soothing rich brown that rushed her senses. Toasty really wasn't the right term. It was lush and alive, like peat or a balanced dark chocolate. "Sanna, this is amazing." His voice was soft and rumbling as he tried to keep the conversation from prying ears and eyes. When did their chairs become so close? They had an entire table. His voice in her ear was rich, just like the cider was in her throat. She couldn't help but look at him, and his face was so close. Everything about him was rich and balanced. He was the physical embodiment of this cider. Would she discover more layers the longer she knew him? He was close enough that the flecks of gold in his eyes sparkled at her like the cider's missing effervescence. He was close enough for her to smell the cider on his breath, the color of it making her light-headed and giddy.

Even though I'm trying hard not to let it show, I want to swim past the breakers, and sink to the bottom and stay there with my eyes closed and the water covering my ears. And yes, I know that's an overreaction. When you read this you'll think "Mom, please. Really?" You'll roll your eyes in that carefree way of yours and shrug those rebellious bangs off your forehead. You'll offer the one-sided smirk that says "you and I are the weird ones in the family - the two that always get each other's hidden meanings". Only this time, you don't get it. You can't. You won't for another 25 or 30 years - until you lie on the sand, or sit in a stadium seat somewhere or stand at your kitchen stove and catch a glimpse of your first born, your baby, suddenly inhabiting the body of an adult. Someone you barely recognize. In that instant, you'll think "how did this happen? When did this happen? Have I taught enough? Have I listened enough? Have I coached and planned and laughed and worried enough? Can I let go enough?" I'm afraid I won't be able to do it gracefully when the moment comes. I'm not ready. It's too soon. Instead of compiling pictures for a tasteful collage to make your dorm room homey, I want to climb inside the photos and live them again. Every bedtime story, lost tooth, birthday cake, backyard campout, ballgame, wildflower bouquet, rainy day and homemade Mothers Day card. All the golden moments and all the quiet, ordinary ones. I'd treasure them even more the second time around. If only life came with a rewind button, with do overs.

Self-knowledge enables a person to grasp what future decisions will define their final formation. The human mind habitually hits the rewind button and replays past events. Can looking back over the rim of time and engaging in thoughtful criticism of the precursor events of my formative years be of any possible assistance to expose the indurate truth of factual reality? Can I employ the tools of memory and imagination along with the techniques of logos – reasoned discourse – to escape strife and pathos? Does it make sense to write the story of my life so that I can ascertain who I am? With these unsettling thoughts and these maieutic questions in mind, I began writing an enantiomorphism-like scroll. The crystal molecules that comprise this text construct a mirror that replicates the multiple dimensions of a risky adventure into self-psychology. I harbor no expectation regarding the outcome of this reflective venture. Regardless of the consequences, all I can do is follow the psychic flow generated by this writing enterprise. I do not know where this positional analysis will take me or how this psychodynamic field study will end. I am simply dedicating all remaining personal energy reserves to capitulating to a tornado-like process of self-study, a turbulent procedure with an unpredictable outcome. Perhaps something sensible will result from deploying a series of narrative personal essays to deconstruct the parasitic evolution of an egocentric self.

Skye certainly had moments in her life when she wished she could rewind time and reclaim her virgin status. The loss of it had happened so quickly, she wasn’t sure she was even remembering what had happened correctly. Everyone always talked about knowing when the moment was right. Well, at the time, Skye thought she knew it was the right time. It certainly seemed right, but honestly, she wasn’t really thinking in her brain at the moment. Things hadn’t happened at all the way they were supposed to…. the way she had planned it.