Ice of cynicism...

Douglas MacArthur

People grow old only by deserting their ideals, Macarthur had written. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up interest wrinkles the soul.

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope as old as your despair.

In the central place of every heart there is a recording chamber. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer and courage, so long are you young.

When your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and then only, are you grown old. And then, indeed as the ballad says, you just fade away.


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I've almost forgotten what its like to have a child's mind...when things were simple and sweet...untainted...like a clean sheet of paper...

I miss not having a care in the world...miss having the energy to run around from sunrise to sunset.

I miss the simple life...that fearless feeling to speak my mind...because I simply didnt care what others thought...because I didnt know better.

I miss experiencing new things...truly experiencing them...through fresh eyes.

I miss that feeling of pure trust...feeling from the inside that all people are good and honest...that nobody would ever hurt me.

I miss my innocence.

Im truly happy with "me"...but sometimes miss those days...