It ought to be lovely to be old to be full of the peace that comes of experience and wrinkled ripe fulfilment.
The wrinkled smile of completeness that follows a life lived undaunted and unsoured with accepted lies they would ripen like apples, and be scented like pippins in their old age.
Gentle, old people should be, like apples when one is tired of love.
Fragrant like yellowing leaves, and dim with the soft stillness and satisfaction of autumn.
And a girl should say: It must be wonderful to live and grow old.
Look at my mother, how rich and still she is!
– And a young man should think: By Jove, my father has faced all weathers, but it’s been a life! ~