Now I am in my eighties, and I have known the joys and sorrows of a full life. Age, however, has its privileges. One is to reminisce, and another is to reminisce selectively.
I know not age, nor weariness nor defeat.
It is selfish to concern oneself with tragedies.
Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?
In my life, I am often reminded that there is a destiny that rules over us, because no one whom I know about or whom I read about seems to be completely happy during a long time.
I am just an old-fashioned girl.
