In memoriam, 1999:
A man’s age is something that creates an impression. It is the epitome of his whole life. It has accrued slowly, the maturity that is his alone. It has come together in the teeth of all the obstacles conquered, the grave illnesses overcome, the pains that flesh is heir to, the despairs surmounted and the risks courted, of most of which he knew nothing at the time. It has come about by way of so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgettings, love.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery, Letter to a Hostage, in The Little Prince (1995: 112)
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