Also, I have a gift in my eyes, I think, for scarcely ever does it strike me that anybody is altered, except my child, for instance, who certainly is larger than when he was born.

When I went to England after five years' absence, everybody (save one) appeared to me younger than I was used to conceive of them, and of course I took for granted that I appeared to them in the same light.

Be sure that it is highly moral to be young as long as possible.

Women who throw up the game early (or even late) and wear dresses 'suitable to their years' (that is, as hideous as possible), are a disgrace to their sex, aren't they now?
And women and men with statistical memories, who are always quoting centuries and the years thereof ('Do you remember in '20 ?' _As if anybody could_), are the pests of society.

And, in short, and for my part, whatever honours of authorship may ever befall me, I hope I may be safe from the epithet which distinguishes the Venerable Bede.
Now, if I had written this from Paris, you would have cried out upon the frivolity I had picked up.