← He had left his books, his works of art, he has rolled up his sleeves and taken their place. 🔊✎
← You'll learn, you as well, too late, life is a book you love, it's a child playing at your feet, it's a tool that sits comfortably in your hand, it's a bench in front of your house where you rest in the evening. You'll despise me again, but discovering that, you'll see, is the silver lining of getting old; life is perhaps all the same just happiness. 🔊✎
← That strength and that courage, that god who lifted me in his arms and saved me from monsters and shadows, was that you? That comforting smell in the evening, under the lamp, when you showed me books in your study, do you think that was you? 🔊✎
← All the care you took of me, all your pride, all those books full of heroes, that was to get here? To be a man, like you say, and happy to be alive? 🔊✎