For how can we understand that outside us when we can barely realize that which goes on within? Moles digging through time, a halting, hesitant creeping forward, with time, under us as a roadway, sweeps back with pictures we call the past. Motionless monuments never again to be touched. Still, dead moments never again to be revived. The brightness of sunshine, the grayness of tears, frozen together, dead forever along the roadway of time.

     But after all, there is still the germ of motion in this infinite smallness called the present. Life is not long. It does not stretch out before us or flutter as a pennon behind us. It is the hazily bound instant, unbelievably brief which we call the present. It is the moment, the perpetual moment which seems to stand still all around us while we sip from its cup.

     And these moments are deserting us one by one. Piling themselves from our aura to stand at attention behind us. How we waste them!

     That is my philosophy of time. It must also be the philosophy of youth, for otherwise I would not presume to dub such mutterings as philosophy at all. But there is the reason for the way I try to live, and there, I believe is the chart by which you gauge yourself. Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! The moments are fleeting. They are slipping away from us. Soon we will die. We will no longer raise our eyes to the stars and cry out the question. Our lips will no longer touch the rim of the cup. Then we too will stand at attention in the path of time. Pitiful, inanimate little figures. Dead and soon forgotten no matter the heights the world has given us in their calendar of fame. The pages of that calendar are often turned and few there are who move with the page.

     Hurry! Hurry! There’s no time to lose. No time for lengthy preparations. Our platforms are so frail, our importance so small, our immortality so unassured. The instants fleet. Speed and the instants are saved a few at a time. Live fast and you live long. No time for empty dreaming. No time for useless building. But only time to live and taste the wine of living. No time to be afraid. No time to waste on worry. Only the moment, for that is the only thing in life worth saving.

PreviousNavigation BarNext

| Previous | Glossary | Contents | Next |
| Your View | Related Sites | Bookstore | Home page |

Contact Us
© 1997-2004 Church of Scientology International. All Rights Reserved.
For Trademark Information