Time, the bastard Time.

“Where does the discontent start?

You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields.
And to prod all these there’s time, the bastard Time.
The end of life is now not so terribly far away – you can see it the way you see the finish line when you come into the stretch – and your mind says,
‘Have I worked enough? Have I eaten enough? Have I loved enough?’

All of these, of course, are the foundations of man’s greatest curse, and perhaps his greatest glory. ‘What has my life meant so far, and what can it mean in the time left to me?”

– John Steinbeck (in Sweet Thursday).

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