The cradle of the future is the grave of the past.
As youth lives in the future, so the adult lives in the past: No one rightly knows how to live in the present.
Why I love the ancients so much? Aside from everything else, when I read them, the entire past between them and me unfolds at thesame time. The hearts of how many heroes and poets may have been set on fire by Plutarch's biographies which now inspire me with their own and with borrowed flames!
Do old people always live in the past? What yesterday was firm and true, may not be so today.
Why does the past look so enticing to us? For the same reason why from a distance a meadow with flowers looks like a flower bed.
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