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[yucca]

It was Mrs. Treadwell's birthday, not the first she had spent alone on a train or a ship; she was feeling her age, forty-six, as a downright affront to her aesthetic sense. All the forties were dull-sounding numbers, but forty-six was so hopelessly middle-aged, so much too late to die young, so much too early to think of death at all. She...remembered how her elders talked long ago some pleasant nonsense about growing old gracefully; she had told them firmly then and there that she was never going to grow old at all, no matter how gracefully. And she had believed it - that was what being a child meant. But had she grown up at all, then? Had she simply gone without knowing it from childhood to age, without ever becoming - unattractive word - "mature"?Well, everyone knows that melancholy brooding and a tendency to dwell in the past are most certain signs of growing old.

Katherine Anne Porter. Ship of Fools. Гениальная, между прочим, книга.

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