In old age we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the passing, we have arrived.

In old age we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the past, we have arrived.

In old age we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the past, we have arrived.

Were I more conversant with literature and its great names, I could go on quoting them ad infinitum and acknowledge my debt for the merit you have been generous enough to find in my work.

Se nu er jeg borte fra byens larm og
trængsel og aviser og mennesker, jeg er
flygtet fra det altsammen fordi det igjen
kaldte på mig fra landet og ensomheten
hvor jeg er fra. Du skal se det kommer
til å gå godt! Tænker jeg og har atter det
bedste håp. Ak jeg har gjort en slik flugt
før og er atter vendt tilbake til byen. Og
atter flyktet.

There is nothing like being left alone again, to walk peacefully with oneself in the woods. To boil one's coffee and fill one's pipe, and to think idly and slowly as one does it.