For the majority of us, the past is a regret, the future an experiment
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We steeped our thirsty souls in the reviving wine of the past, the pathetic
past, the beautiful past, the dear and lamented past; we uttered the names that
had been silent upon our lips for fifty years, and it was as if they were made
of music; with reverent hands we unburied our dead, the mates of our youth,
and caressed them with our speech; we searched the dusty chambers of our memories
and dragged forth incident after incident, episode after episode, folly after
folly, and laughed such good laughs over them, with the tears running down ...
- Autobiography of Mark Twain (University of California Press, 2010)
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