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Poor is the power of the lead that becomes bullets compared to the power of the hot metal that becomes types.
On the whole, the world was friendly. It chiefly depended on whether one were good or not.
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.
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.
It was jolly in the country. A cow and little pigs to play with and milk warm from the cow.
It gradually dawned upon me that there was no one more difficult to please than my mother.
I was not given to looking at life in a rosy light.
I was not afraid of what I did not like. To overcome dislike of a thing often satisfied one's feeling of honour.
I was at home then in the world of figures, but not in that of values.
I was always hearing that I was pale and thin and small.
I was a town child, it is true, but that did not prevent me enjoying open-air life, with plants and animals.
I encountered among my comrades the most varied human traits, from frankness to reserve, from goodness, uprightness and kindness, to brutality and baseness.
I did not know what it was to be happy for a whole day at a time, scarcely for an hour.
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