L'homme est une passion inutile. - Jean-Paul Sartre

And we feel that the hero has lived all the details of this night like annunciations, promises, or even that he lived only those that were promises, blind and deaf to all that did not herald adventure. We forget that the future was not yet there; the man was walking in the night without forethought, a night which offered him a choice of dull rich prizes, and he did not make his choice.

On est ce qu'on veut.

Do you think that I count the days? There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.