Time, he thought: I wonder how much more time I’ve got? I’m thirty-three years old; that’s the half-way point, really -I’m probably halfway through my life. What am I going to do during the other half, ride the commuters’ train, and read annual reports…and pride myself on working every weekend? Shall I make a full-time career of being [insert MD’s name here] ghost? Is that what I want?
I don’t know, he thought-who the hell knows what he wants? It’s ridiculous to think of the next thirty-three years stretching ahead like an endless uphill road. Don’t wish time away.
There’s something wrong, he thought. There must be something drastically wrong when a man starts wishing time away. Time was given us like jewels to spend, and it’s the ultimate sacrilege to wish it away.
–Sloan Wilson, The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit
