I Was At Home Then In The

When I Was A Little Boy I Did Not, Of Course, Trouble Much About My Appearance.

What Has Here Happened Is That The Instinct Of Cruelty, Which Has Turned Inwards, Has Become Self-torture, And All Man's Animal Instincts Have Been Reinterpreted As Guilt Towards God. Every Nay Man Utters To His Nature, To His Real Being, He Flings Out As A Yea, An Affirmation Of Reality Applied To God's Sanctity

Just About This Time, When In Imagination I Was So Great A Warrior, I Had Good Use In Real Life For More Strength, As I Was No Longer Taken To School By The Nurse, But Instead Had Myself To Protect My Brother, Two Years My Junior.

But I Did Not Find Any Positive Inspiration In My Studies Until I Approached My Nineteenth Year.

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.