“Procrastination is my sin. It brings me naught but sorrow. I know that I should stop it. In fact, I will--tomorrow”

“I am the prince of procrastination. It is my besetting sin. I never put off till tomorrow what I can possibly do - the day after”

“What will become of me? I do not know where am I going or what tomorrow will bring.”

“What would tomorrow bring? I wondered. Both hands on the wheel, I closed my eyes. I didn’t feel like I was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing. What would become of me tomorrow I did not know.”

“When I lie waking all alone,Recounting what I have ill done,My thoughts on me then tyrannize,Fear and sorrow me surprise,Whether I tarry still or go,Methinks the time moves very slow,All my griefs to this are jolly,Naught so sad as melancholy.'Tis my sole plague to be alone,I am a beast, a monster grown,I will no light nor company,I find it now my misery.The scene is turn'd, my joys are gone,Fear, discontent, and sorrows come.All my griefs to this are folly,Naught so fierce as melancholy.”

“I sat up then, looking at him appraisingly, knowing that was the moment I could stop everything if I wanted to. “Maybe you should go,” I whispered, as I ran my hand through his hair slowly.“Maybe I should stay,” he said, bringing his lips to mine again.”