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Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is
not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the
will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the
freshness of the deep springs of life.
Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over
timidity of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists
in a man of 60 more than a boy of 20. Nobody grows old merely by number of
years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.
Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm
wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the
spirit back to dust.
Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the
lure of wonders, the unfailing appetite for what’s next and the joy if the game
of living. In the centre of your heart and my heart, there is a wireless
station; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, courage and power
from man and from the infinite, so long as you are young.
When your aerial are down, and your spirit is covered with snows
of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you’ve grown old, even at 20; but as
long as your aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there’s hope you may
die young at 80.
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