It feels like a paraphrase of Faust's desire to have the moment last forever.  In a way, it is just that.  In a way moments are all we have and all we need to have.
Witness Proust's seven volumes which end where they started, in the perception of a moment.  
Witness also a sound made forty-plus years ago by the soprano in Act 3 of La Traviata, a moment I will never forget.
Do we know when such moments occur that we will never forget them?  That they will become fundamental to our notion of who we are?
 


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