let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life; let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating, on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul; let my unformed childhood soul, as it ages, assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture; let me learn just everything that others cannot teach me, what only life would be capable of marking deeply in my skin!
