I used to wonder, when I was a child, how it was possible that elderly people could be so cheerful in view of their rapidly approaching demise. As many of these were probably only about forty, the phenomenon was less astonishing than I thought, but it has struck me since that many people who really have reached old age display considerable serenity and liveliness of mind, and now that I am myself in this category I find that there are many compensations for advancing years. The fact that one suffers less from the various forms of insecurity or from the violent emotions that beset one in youth is one of them; another the fact that one's individuality is more firmly established and that one no longer cares, or that one cares much less, what other people think of one. There is also the discovery of things that can be enjoyed that one had not taken advantage of earlier. For example, perhaps because of my absorption in music, I had never learned to use my eyes. I now take great pleasure, not only in pictures, but in the visual world in general. I am more aware of the beauty of much that I see around me. Of young people, for instance, and of animals. I have more sympathy with other human beings.