We think very little of time present; we anticipate the future, as being too slow, and with a view to hasten it onward, we recall the past to stay it as too swiftly gone. We are so thoughtless, that we thus wander through the hours which are not here, regardless only of the moment that is actually our own.
Look in the mirror. The face that pins you with its double gaze reveals a chastening secret.
The charity that hastens to proclaim its good deeds, ceases to be charity, and is only pride and ostentation.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end.