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A metaphysical tour de force of untethered meaning and involuting interlocking contrapuntal rhythms, 'The Clock' is more than a movie or even a work of art. It is so strange and other-ish that it becomes a stream-of-consciousness algorithm unto itself - something almost inhuman.

What interests me about clocks is that everything is hand-made, and yet to the person looking at the clock, something magical is happening that cannot be explained unless you are the clockmaker.

I do get clocked. But it's not invasive to the point where it's upsetting. It doesn't encroach.

There's already a marriage clock, a career clock, a biological clock. Sometimes being a woman feels like standing in the lobby of a hotel, looking at the dials depicting every time zone in the world behind the front desk - except they all apply to you, and all at once.

I'll just tell you the way it is. You ask me what time it is and I'm gonna tell you how to build a clock.

They took away time, and they gave us the clock.

There are more clocks than ever - clocks on computers, on cell phones, on televisions, on any screen available, telling time to the digital second - but they all seem to matter less.

You can never turn the clock back and, since we're talking about mental health, I would stress that.

When I have a job to do, time means nothing. I lose patience with people who work on a clock.

In moments of transcendence, when time stands still, your biological clock will stop. The spirit is that domain of our awareness where there is no time.