I have been contemplating this phrase from one of my favourite novels, Peter S. Beagle's Last Unicorn. It is part of a conversation that one of the protagonists has with a human skull, guarding the Grandfather clock in the great hall. I have an Osteology exam next week, and so I have been fondling many human skulls the past few days. I cannot help but think of the flesh that once clung to those bones, and wonder what they would say to me.
"When I was alive, I believed--as you do--that time was at least as real and solid as myself, and probably more so. I said 'one o'clock' as though I could see it, and 'Monday' as though I could find it on the map; and I let myself be hurried along from minute to minute, day to day, year to year, as though I were actually moving from one place to another. Like everyone else, I lived in a house bricked up with seconds and minutes, weekends and New Year's Days, and I never went outside until I died, because there was no other door. Now I know that I could have walked through the walls." Peter S. Beagle - The Last Unicorn.