In their Wisdom by C.P. Snow

Six months is a long time, someone had said. In fact, no one knew for certain what the period of waiting would be, and it was easy to underestimate the resources of English law. So that a number of people had some more experience of waiting, expectancy, anxiety, and hope: and in the process one or two noticed some more of the curious properties of time.

Time was passing, that was dull, one realised it only when it was over and brought it back to memory, which was itself fallacious. One never realised what the actual flux of time had been like when one was living it: just as James Ryle might recall looking out over the river brooding on his celibacy, and cut off that recollection as though it were framed, like a period in a history text book: while on the actual evening, time had, not surprisingly, flowed on and in due course (and not so long after the brooding) Ryle had roused himself and gone off to have a meal at one of his clubs.