“Oh, Bernard, stop it, please. As it would be needless to say anything really.
Nothing you could say could be true. You are too young. Truth is invisible to the young, you see, Bernard? It becomes obvious only when the warm light of death flickers through soft leaves, in back yards, where you stay to rest for one minute, just to catch your breath or something, and suddenly youth is gone. You see…? You may even take a step back to avoid the inescapable. And there… You pull your head up and you know: Youth is gone, and the complete desert of truth lies in front of you.”
The last 2 days of my mother, 1973, B. Melderick