East of Eden - John Steinbeck
Time interval is a strange and contradictory matter in the mind. It would be reasonable to suppose that a routine time or an eventless time would seem interminable. It should be so, but it is not. It is the dull eventless times that have no duration whatever. A time splashed with interest, wounded with tragedy, crevassed with joy - that's the time that seems long in memory. Eventlessness has no posts to drape duration on. From nothing to nothing is no time at all.
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