“It’s too late, Peter.”

That’s a soul crushing line from Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead. Towards the end of the novel, the two main characters talk; Peter Keating shows his paintings to Howard Roark, hoping to hear some comforting words about the true passion in his life after his career as an architect seems to be at an end. Instead he gets an eye-opening honest response.

It seems painfully obvious to me that when we say ‘it’s never too late’ we’re just lying to ourselves, trying to justify our already wasted time or give us, yet another, excuse to continue wasting it. It just might be healthier to assume you’re already running late; the feeling of urgency is something most seem to be able to avoid, to their own detriment.

Next time you sit down to watch that bad movie for the third time, remember Peter and know that sooner or later it is going be too late for you too. And if you’re someone who could be described as ‘older’ and you felt called out by this text, prove me wrong.

No one wrote better about the importance of the time we have and our tendency to waste it than Seneca in his essay On The Shortness of Life. If you haven’t already go and read it, right now.

Oh yeah, Peter was 39 when they talked.

''Keating nodded. “Guess I… knew that.”
When Keating had gone, Roark leaned against the door, closing his eyes. He was sick with pity. ''