everything is ahead

"Sometimes I walk as much as possible, and sometimes as little as I can, but the difference is not great. I do it to comfort myself."

"Why do we love this forlorn land at the edge of everywhere?"

“It isn’t the same. It’s not the same place. I used to be there and now I’m here, and everyone says—would say if I asked ’em —that it’s days and nights going, turning around like that electrical clock with the little hole in the face that goes black and then white every second so you get dizzy to watch it, but it’s not that. How can everything change just because the sun goes down? That’s what I want to know. Everybody knows it doesn’t."

"It was May. No, it wasn’t; it was June—the last part of May or the first part of June, it doesn’t matter … . And that house; so small."

"When summer comes—it is an odd thought—perhaps I will go up and sleep again in my own room. And then, perhaps, the old days will really come back."

"I had been afraid, just before we arrived (or, actually, for some minutes before we arrived, since I thought, as children I suppose usually do, that we were at our destination almost as soon as we had begun the trip."

"It is too late for it now, but it sometimes seems to me that we ought to have kept records, by the new generations, of our remoteness from events of high significance."

"Now, in retrospect, I feel that she lived on and on through whole ages of the world, as though she might have lived on forever. (As perhaps elsewhere she has.)"