One begins the journey [of life] light of heart going along gaily with many companions . . . these change . . . and the number gets fewer, the road gets narrower, and at last one is all alone, it is dark and quiet—will any voice speak out of the silence? Will any hand stretch out of the solitude, will any light shine out of the darkness? . . . Parts of me seem to atrophy as I go on—is that the ...