A Quote by Jandy Nelson

In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not. — © Jandy Nelson
In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not.
She saw Valentine's eyes as the sword hurtled toward her; it seemed like eons, though it could only have been a split second. She saw that he could stop the blow if he wanted. Saw that he knew it might well strike her if he didn't. Saw that he was going to do it anyway.
I saw everything on my parents, and I said to myself: 'I don't want to live my life like this.' They gave me everything they could but it was not amazing.
It's the moment when you know that you can have what you want if you're only brave enough to say so. It's a split second when everything can change, but you pussy out because you're too afraid to risk the rejection.
Thinking about the things that happened, I don't know any other ball player would could have done what he (Jackie Robinson) did. To be able to hit with everybody yelling at him. He had to block all that out, block out everything but this ball that is coming in at a hundred miles an hour and he's got a split second to make up his mind if it's in or out or down or coming at his head, a split second to swing. To do what he did has got to be the most tremendous thing I've ever seen in sports.
I love Jesus Christ with all my heart and everything He stands for. I think that sums up everything that I want for my life, everything I want for my family, everything I want for my career. I want it to be entertaining. I want people to smile and tap their toes, but I want it to be meaningful when the day is done.
You never knew which split second might be the zigzag bolt dividing all that went before from the everything that comes next.
I am no longer the left behind. I am the living. And I want everything this life has to offer. I stop for a second and look around at all the shops and stores and stalls. At all the people, going about their days, at all the moments they're living. This is what I want. I want to live every moment. I want to feel everything.
I could see no position to say, 'I'm going to make a living as a writer.' But I went to classes for it; I read every play in 'Theater' magazine. I saw the second acts of everything on Broadway - I had a job as a CBS usher in New York City, and on my way home every night, I'd see what shows I could get into.
I was obsessed with everything and anything; I wanted to learn everything, to read everything, to do everything. I was constantly on sensory overload. I'd hoard dozens of books in my second-grade cubby, and literally try to read two at a time, side by side.
If we could see, even for a split second, the depths of God's love for us - all we'd want to do is worship and prayer would never seem a chore.
I just want to try everything. I want to see how good I can be, the best I can be at what I'm doing. I want to do everything. You know? I want to be in a musical. I want to do everything. I want to try and sing.
And for a moment?for a split second?everything else falls away, the whole pattern and order of my life, and a huge joy crests in my chest. I am no one, and I owe nothing to anybody, and my life is my own.
The truth is... everything counts. Everything. Everything we do and everything we say. Everything helps or hurts; everything adds to or takes away from someone else.
I've got a split decision loss to Dominick Cruz and that changed everything, a fight that I thought I won. That changed everything, but I am the best bantamweight in the world.
And we could have all this,' she said. 'And we could have everything and every day we make it more impossible.' 'What did you say?' 'I said we could have everything.' 'We can have everything.' 'No, we can't.' 'We can have the whole world.' 'No, we can't.' 'We can go everywhere.' 'No, we can't. It isn't ours anymore.' 'It's ours.' 'No, it isn't. And once they take it away, you never get it back.
When I’m running, there’s always this split second when the pain is ripping through me and I can hardly breathe and all I see is color and blur—and in that split second, right as the pain crests, and becomes too much, and there’s a whiteness going through me, I see something to my left, a flicker of color […]—and I know then, too, that if I only turn my head he’ll be there, laughing, watching me, and holding out his arms. I don’t ever turn my head to look, of course. But one day I will. One day I will, and he’ll be back, and everything will be okay. And until then: I run.
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