Man—(To himself.) Desires die, ideals are forgotten, love passes away. The mantel of eternal snow envelops all men, what shall escape?
Boy—Youth!
Man—Which knows not life.
Boy—Must one experience to know?... Do I not feel?
Man—In all these days we have been together, what have you felt for me?
Boy—That you sowed wisely, but knew not how to garner. You speak of ideals lost—
Man—I am not sure I ever had them.
Boy—Is it work or play, love or life, your ideal of yesterday?
Man—Yesterday! Did it ever exist?
Boy—It died the night of its birth, and vanished in rose smoke, making incense to the gods who once reigned.