"And along with indifference to space, there was an even more complete indifference to time. "There seems to be plenty of it", was all I would answer… - Aldous Huxley

There seems to be plenty of it,' was all I would answer, when the investigator asked me to say what I felt about time.

It was about half-past one — 'only half-past one,' Lucy complained — when she and Walter and Spandrell left the restaurant. 'Still young,' was Spandrell's comment on the night. 'Young and rather insipid. Nights are like human beings — never interesting till they're grown up. Round about midnight they reach puberty. At a little after one they come of age. Their prime is from two to half-past. An hour later they're growing rather desperate, like those man-eating women and waning middle-aged men who hop around twice as violently as they ever did in the hope of persuading themselves that they're not old. After four they're in full decay. And their death is horrible. Really horrible at sunrise, when the bottles are empty and people look like corpses and desire's exhausted itself into disgust. I have rather a weakness for the deathbed scenes, I must confess,' Spandrell added. 'I'm

Both of us victims of the same twentieth-century plague. Not the Black Death, this time; the Gray Life.

In a few years, no doubt, marriage licences will be sold like dog licences, good for a period of twelve months, with no law against changing dogs or keeping more than one animal at a time.