L'esprit d'escalier

…There could be no doubt that greatness was seated within; greatness was passing, hidden, down Bond Street, removed only by a hand’s-breath from ordinary people who might now, for the first and last time, be within speaking distance of the majesty of England, of the enduring symbol of the state which will be known to curious antiquaries, sifting through the ruins of time, when London is a grass-grown path and all those hurrying along the pavement this Wednesday morning are but bones with a few wedding rings mixed up in their dust and the gold stoppings of innumerable decayed teeth. The face in the motor car will then be known. Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Woolf