present
The present might be compared to a long-winded film from which memory and anticipation select photographic highlights.
The Art of Travel (New York: Vintage International, 2004), 15.
I can’t afford to regret. That life is simply gone now, and I can’t regret its passing. I have to live in the present. The life back then is gone just as surely—it’s as remote to me as if it had happened to somebody I read about in a nineteenth-century novel. I don’t spend more than five minutes a month in the past. The past really is a foreign country, and they do things differently there.
The Paris Review Interviews, vol. III (New York: Picador, 2008), 235.