Did it matter then, she asked herself, walking towards Bond Street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely; all this must go on without her; did she resent it; or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? but that somehow in the streets of London, on the ebb and flow of things, here, there, she survived, Peter survived, lived in each other, she being part, she was positive, of the trees at home; of the house there, ugly, rambling all to bits a pieces as it was; part of people she had never met; being laid out like a mist between the people she knew best, who lifted her on branches as she had seen the trees lift the mist, but it spread ever so far, her life, herself. But what was she dreaming as she looked into Hatchards’ shop window? What was she trying to recover?
Take life at a pace that feels right to you. No one said that you need to rush to get to the very end destination. There are no rules to see how fast one can live their life. Life is just simply meant to be lived. So take it slow, or take is a bit faster. Either way, make sure that it feels comfortable to you.
You need to ignore what everyone else is doing and achieving. Your life is about breaking your own limits and outgrowing yourself to live your best life. You are not in competition with anyone else. Plan to outdo your past, not other people.