“How little we have, I thought, between us and the waiting cold, the mystery, death--a strip of beach, a hill, a few walls of wood or stone, a little fire--and tomorrow's sun, rising and warming us, tomorrow's hope of peace and better weather . . . What if tomorrow vanished in the storm? What if time stood still? And yesterday--if once we lost our way, blundered in the storm--would we find yesterday again ahead of us, where we had thought tomorrow's sun would rise?”

“Yesterday's tomorrow brought us close....Tomorrow's yesterday pulled us apart again.Between yesterdays and tomorrows, a life lived !We blossomed and wilted, blossomed and wilted again !”

“We yearn for tomorrow and the progress that it represents. But yesterday was once tomorrow, and where was progress in it? Or we yearn for yesterday, for what was or what might have been. But as we are yearning, the present is becoming the past, so the past is nothing but our yearning for second chances.”

“We yearn for tomorrow and the progress it represents. But yesterday was once tomorrow, and where was the progress in it?”

“If we had to vanish tomorrow, what would we want as our legacy?”

“We are all ghosts of yesterday, and the phantom of tomorrow awaits us alike in sunshine or in shadow, dimly perceived at times, never entirely lost.”