Boyhood

I was eleven when my father* died. I admired him greatly and certainly thought that I was fond of him, and I think that he was both fond and proud of me, because as a small boy I was intelligent, reserved and had a violent temper, and so in fact resembled him.

Leonard Woolf :  Sowing 1880-1904

                                                                                                                       *Sidney Woolf Q.C.

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