There was a time when my blood was stirred by the blare of the horn and the rush of the hoofs, but now it is all wearisome to me." "And hawking too ?" "Yes; I shall hawk no more." "But, sire, you must have amusement." "What is so dull as an amusement which has ceased to amuse?
I know not how it is.

When I was but a lad, and my mother and I were driven from place to place, with the Fronde at war with us and Paris in revolt, with our throne and even our lives in danger, all life seemed to be so bright, so new, and so full of interest.

Now that there is no shadow, and that my voice is the first in France, as France's is in Europe, all is dull and lacking in flavour.

What use is it to have all pleasure before me, when it turns to wormwood when it is tasted ?" "True pleasure, sire, lies rather in the inward life, the serene mind, the easy conscience.

And then, as we grow older, is it not natural that our minds should take a graver bent?
We might well reproach ourselves if it were not so, for it would show that we had not learned the lesson of life." "It may be so, and yet it is sad and weary when nothing amuses.