For as soon as their preoccupations fail them, they are restless with nothing to do, not knowing how to dispose of their leisure or make the time pass.  And so they are anxious for something else to do, and all the intervening time is wearisome: really, it is just as when a gladiatorial show has been announced, or they are looking forward to the appointed time of some other exhibition or amusement — they want to leap over the days in between.  Any deferment of the longed-for event is tedious to them.  Yet the time of the actual enjoyment is short and swift, and made much shorter through their own fault.  For they dash from one pleasure to another and cannot stay steady in one desire.

They lose the day in waiting for the night, and the night in fearing the dawn.

Even their pleasures are uneasy and made anxious by various fears, and at the very height of their rejoicing the worrying thought steals over them: ‘How long will this last?’  This feeling has caused kings to bewail their power, and they were not so much delighted by the greatness of their fortune as terrified by the thought of its inevitable end.

—Seneca, On the Shortness of Life: Life Is Long if You Know How to Use It