We never remain in the present. We anticipate the future as being too slow to come, as if to hasten its progress; or we recall the past in order to hold it back as being too quick to go: we are so rash as to stray into times which are not ours, and do not think about the only one which belongs to us: so futile as to think of thoes which no longer are, and to let slip unreflecting the only one which subsides.
The truth is, the present commonly wounds us.