For everything looms pleasant through the softening haze of time. Even the sadness that is past seems sweet. Our boyish days look very merry to us now, all nutting, hoop, and ginger-bread. The snubbings and toothaches and the Latin verbs are all forgotten
—the Latin verbs especially. And we fancy we were very happy when we were hobbledehoys, and loved; and we wish that we could love again. We never think of the heartaches, or the sleepless nights, or the hot dryness of our throats, when she said she could never be anything to us but a sister-as if any man wanted more sisters!

Jerome K. Jerome, Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow