I did not know at the time what I came to know later as a man, as a character, I am both weak and strong. My strength tends to be frail; it can betray me. I am capable of submitting to an outside pressure, conformity, the mood of the moment, someone else’s enthusiasm, my own uncertainty; and it’s true, always after a time I am capable of shaking off the bad influence. But with all certainty, I do not belong to those phenomenally resistant, arrogantly sovereign natures. Perhaps I am strong, but my strength is welded to weakness, doubt, dislike of quick decisions. I belong to those who err.Connsequently, I also have an appropriately affectionate attitude to becoming, maturing. Those who are genetically independent might certainly disdain the element of development, time, maturing, because at any moment, regardless of challenge, they are ready to show themselves to the world in all their perfection. Time for them is nothing more than the shutter click of a camera, an instant of unveiling their unchanging substance. For me, on the other hand, time—the time of maturing, redressing an error, arriving at a clear understanding of one thing or another—is something vital, indispensable. Maturing—in my case—is never ultimate and finished. I will always be ready to commit a new error, and then I will try to understand it and correct it. Usque ad finem.
Adam Zagajewski, Two Cities, traducido del polaco al inglés por Lillian Vallee