“Walking in front of the mirror, I stopped to smile: suddenly I saw myself, and the sight reminded me that I had gray hair. Gentlemen of the jury, ten years is nothing to sneer at; it’s longer than the distance between the city of Troy and the castle of Mycenae; it’s higher than the place where we are, since we can only go down and not up in Time. It’s like in nightmares: each step we take removes us further from our goal, instead of bringing us closer.”

—Marguerite Yourcenar