The child thinks of growing old as an almost obscene calamity, which for some mysterious reason will never happen to itself. All who have pass the age of thirty five are joyless grotesques, endlessly fussing about things of no importance and staying alive without, so far as the child can see, having anything to live for. Only child life is real life.

George Orwell (1903-1950) English writer [pseud. of Eric Arthur Blair]

“Such, Such Were the Joys” (1948)
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