On the journal she wrote
“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. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a
little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and
already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. “
I am more than ready to start my day.