To those of us who spend entire days, if not lifetimes, concentrating on a series of brief and insignificant things, the present has barely any meaning at all; we become tiny timorous things, caught in the inch of space between the “in” box and the “out” box. While we may share the common illusions about a mobile present and a free future, we spend most of our lives housecleaning the past— maintaining commitments, counterbalancing errors, living up to expectations, mopping up our own postponements. In this sense, as in others, we shuffle backward into the future, unaware of our enslavement to time or of the simple freedom of new beginnings.

Robert Grudin— Time and the Art of Living.

'Nuff said.


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