Childhood is not only the childhood we really had but also the impressions we formed of it in our adolescence and maturity. That is why childhood seems so long. Probably every period of life is multiplied by our reflections upon the next.

Idleness makes hours pass slowly and years swiftly. Activity makes the hours short and the years long.

We never remember days, only moments.

One stops being a child when one realizes that telling one's trouble does not make it any better.

Will power is only the tensile strength of one's own disposition. One cannot increase it by a single ounce.

It is not that the child lives in a world of imagination, but that the child within us survives and starts into life only at rare moments of recollection, which makes us believe, and it is not true, that, as children, we were imaginative?

A corpse is what's left after waking too often.