“In the end what you had was the present. It was all any living person had. The stories which accumulated about yourself and about others were the past, they were smoothed and refined in the telling, over and over. They became thinner, fainter, a shadow at your back as you pushed on. They would signify no more than the painted faces of saints. The present was where you had to live. The future called her on; it was free, but it was empty.”
Quote by Anthony Quinn
Book:Freya
Work
Author
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