Immortal Openings, 10: Gertrude Stein, The Making of Americans

Once an angry man dragged his father along the ground through his own orchard.  “Stop!” cried the groaning old man at last, “Stop! I did not drag my father beyond this tree.”

It is hard living down the tempers we are born with.  We all begin well, for in our youth there is nothing we are more intolerant of than our own sins writ large in others and we fight them fiercely in ourselves; but we grow old and we see that these our sins are of all sins the really harmless ones to own, nay they give charm to any character, and so our struggle with them dies away.

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