Birth belongs to the future. Hope belongs to the future. Life belongs to the future. Death belongs to the past.
No matter how he thinks it -- no matter how he frets and agonises and imagines -- Napoleon cannot change the course of Waterloo. That battle is finished and done and buried in the ground in the past. The spirit of the past is a skeleton. The spirit of the future a baby: Dickens got this exactly the wrong way about in his Carol.
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