The hour-hand of life. Life consists of rare, isolated moments of the greatest significance, and of innumerably many intervals, during which at best the silhouettes of those moments hover about us. Love, springtime, every beautiful melody, mountains, the moon, the seaall these speak completely to the heart but once, if in fact they ever do get a chance to speak completely. For many men do not have those moments at all, and are themselves intervals and intermissions in the symphony of real life.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Friedrich Nietzsche
all kidding aside, I agree with the excerpt above. I sometimes look at the people around me and feel a little sorry for them.. so many of them have very small lives.. I don't pity them.. for they have no clue what they're missing..