Eternity is in love with the productions of time.

Whatever is permanent needs nothing, and yet the things worth loving are precisely the ones that will not last: a season, a face at a certain age, an afternoon. Fragility is not a defect in them, it is the reason they register at all. Nothing incapable of being lost would hold your attention the way these do.

So the passing quality of something good is no reason to hold it at arm’s length. Look at what you are only half enjoying because you already know it will end. Being fully present to a temporary thing is the only way anyone has ever had one.