The habits of our lives makes us presume that things will happen in a certain foreseeable way, that there will be a vague coherence in the world.
“Love came to us in time gone by
When one at twilight shyly played
And one in fear was standing nigh —
For Love at first is all afraid.
We were grave lovers. Love is past
That had his sweet hours many a one;
Welcome to us now at the last
The ways that we shall go upon.”
James Joyce | Chamber Music