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Thus one memory follows another until the waves dash together over our heads, and a deep sigh swells the breast, which warns us that we have forgotten to breathe in the midst of these pure thoughts.
Of these years nought remains in memory but the sad feeling that we have advanced and only grown older.
The first pages of memory are like the old family Bible. The first leaves are wholly faded and somewhat soiled with handling. But, when we turn further, and come to the chapters where Adam and Eve were banished from Paradise, then, all begins to grow clear and legible.
Quote of the day
Perfect freedom is reserved for the man who lives by his own work and in that work does what he wants to do.
R. G. Collingwood
December 6, 1823
October 28, 1900
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