The stream of time sweeps away errors, and leaves the truth for the inheritance of humanity.

I was not afraid of what I did not like. To overcome dislike of a thing often satisfied one's feeling of honour.

It gradually dawned upon me that there was no one more difficult to please than my mother.

But I did not find any positive inspiration in my studies until I approached my nineteenth year.

I was a town child, it is true, but that did not prevent me enjoying open-air life, with plants and animals.

My father, though, could run very much faster. It was impossible to compete with him on the grass. But it was astonishing how slow old people were. Some of them could not run up a hill and called it trying to climb stairs.

That a literature in our time is living is shown in that way that it debates problems.