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We thought we were being mature when we were only being safe.

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How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but—mainly—to ourselves.

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I had wanted life not to bother me too much, and had succeeded - and how pitiful that was.

~ Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

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