Vladimir Nabokov. El Elfo Patata
Every separate day in the year is a gift presented to only one man— the happiest one; all other people use his day, to enjoy the sunshine or berate the rain, never knowing, however, to whom that day really be longs; and its fortunate owner is pleased and amused by their ignorance. A person cannot foreknow which day exactly will fall to his lot, what trifle he will remember forever: the ripple of reflected sunlight on a wall bordering water or the revolving fall of a maple leaf; and it often happens that he recognizes his day only in retrospection, long after he has plucked,