The recounting of a life is a cheat...even our own stories are obscenely distorted.
He dares not concern himself with the future for fear of disturbing the present.
Happiness is the lucky pane of glass you carry in your head. It takes all your cunning just to hang on to it, and once it's smashed you have to move into a different sort of life.
It's hard work being a person, you have to do it every single day.
In a long and healthy life, which is what most of us have, there is plenty of time.
This is why I read novels: so I can escape my own unrelenting monologue.