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It was the last that remained of a past whose annihilation had not taken place because it was still in a process of annihilation, consuming itself from within, ending at every moment but never ending its ending.
-Gabriel Garcia Marquez
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It Was The Last That Remained Of

Gabriel Garcia Marquez
It was the last that remained of a past whose annihilation had not taken place because it was still in a process of annihilation, consuming itself from within, ending at every moment but never ending its ending.
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Taken Past Lasts

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Friends now fast sworn, whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love, unseparable, shall within this hour, on a dissension of a doit, break out to bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep to take the one the other, by some chance, some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends and interjoin their issues.
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Today is tomorrow, and present is past. nothing exists and everything will last. there is no beginning, there was no end. no depth to fall, no height to ascend. there is only this moment, this flicker of light that illuminates nothing, but oh! so bright! for we are the spark that flutters in space, consuming an eternity of a moment’s grace. for today is tomorrow and present and past. nothing exists and everything will last.
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When i was in mecca i noticed that their, they had no color problem. that they had people there whose eyes were blue and people there whose eyes were black, people whose skin was white, people whose skin was black, people whose hair was blond, people whose hair was black, from the whitest white person to the blackest black person.
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Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another ruler with trumpetings again. pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle. pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.
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O lust, thou infernal fire, whose fuel is gluttony; whose flame is pride, whose sparkles are wanton words; whose smoke is infamy; whose ashes are uncleanness; whose end is hell.
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And now the moment. such a moment has a peculiar character. it is brief and temporal indeed, like every moment; it is transient as all moments are; it is past, like every moment in the next moment. and yet it is decisive, and filled with the eternal. such a moment ought to have a distinctive name; let us call it the fullness of time.
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