Our Minds Have Unbelievable Power Over Our

An Old Man, Having Retired From Active Life, Regains The Gaity And Irresponsibility Of Childhood. He Is Ready To Play, He Cannot Run With His Son, But He Can Totter With His Grandson. Our First And Last Steps Have The Same Rhythm.

What Men Call Friendship Is Only Social Intercourse, An Exchange Of Favours And Good Offices; It Comes Down To A Commercial Dealing In Which Self-esteem Always Expects To Profit.

Almost All Great Writers Have As Their Motif, More Or Less Disguised, The Passage From Childhood To Maturity, The Clash Between The Thrill Of Expectation And The Disillusioning Knowledge Of Truth. 'lost Illusion' Is The Undisclosed Title Of Every Novel.

Everything That Is In Agreement With Our Personal Desires Seems True; Everything That Is Not Puts Us In A Rage.

To Reason With Poorly Chosen Words Is Like Using A Pair Of Scales With Inaccurate Weights.