so long—as if in the end they were bound to wear people out. Sometimes life seems like a match between one’s self and one’s gaolers. The gaolers, of course, are one’s mistakes; and the question is, who’ll hold out longest? When I think of that, life, instead of being too long, seems as short as a winter day… Oh, look, the lights already, over there in the valley … this day’s over. And suddenly you find you’ve missed your chance. You’ve been beaten…”
