The diseases of the present have little in common with the diseases of the past save that we die of them.
The delusions of the past seem fond and foolish. The delusions of the present seem subtle and sane.
We have but the memories of past good cheer, we have but the echoes of departed laughter. In vain we look and listen for the mirth that has died away. In vain we seek to question the gray ghosts of old-time revelers.
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