A World With One Month Is A

Time Is A Rigid, Bonelike Structure, Extending Infinitely Ahead And Behind, Fossilizing The Future As Well As The Past.

In A World Without Future, Each Parting Of Friends Is A Death. In A World Without Future, Each Loneliness Is Final. In A World Without Future, Each Laugh Is The Last Laugh. In A World Without Future, Beyond The Present Lies Nothingness, And People Cling To The Present As If Hanging From A Cliff.

A Person Who Cannot Imagine The Future Is A Person Who Cannot Contemplate The Results Of His Actions. Some Are Thus Paralyzed Into Inaction.

A World In Which Time Is Absolute Is A World Of Consolation. For While The Movements Of People Are Unpredictable, The Movement Of Time Is Predictable. While People Can Be Doubted, Time Cannot Be Doubted. While People Brood, Time Skips Ahead Without Looking Back.

In This World, Artists Are Joyous. Unpredictability Is The Life Of Their Paintings, Their Music, Their Novels. They Delight In Events Not Forecasted, Happenings Without Explanation, Retrospective.