With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.
Sylvia Plath (2007). “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.9, Anchor