Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday.
Wayne captures something most optimism misses: tomorrow isn't valuable because it's a blank slate, but because it arrives *expecting something of us*—it assumes we're capable of growth. The quiet phrase "hopes we've learned something from yesterday" reframes each day not as escape from the past but as evidence that the past meant something, that our mistakes were tuition payments rather than tombstones. When you're genuinely stuck—say, after a difficult conversation or professional failure—this matters enormously: it suggests the weight you feel isn't wasted; tomorrow's arrival actually requires that you've absorbed the lesson. That's why a cowboy's philosophy here rings truer than the usual "leave yesterday behind" platitudes.