You are welcome to your intellectual pastimes and books and art and newspapers; welcome, too, to your bars and your whisky that only makes me ill. Here am I in the forest, quite content.
Knut Hamsun
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In old age... we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the past, we have arrived. When good befalls a man he calls it Providence, when evil fate. There is nothing like being left alone again, to walk peacefully with oneself in the woods. To boil one's coffee and fill one's pipe, and to think idly and slowly as one does it.
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