"Why not live in Paris, write poetry, paint pictures, fall in love, shoot for the Great American Novel? Why not live fully and aim for an impossible goal? And if the goal wasn't achieved, well, perhaps it had been enough merely to be there, freely spending youth and stockpiling memories.
Harold Stearns, who wasted his youth in Paris as scandalously as anyone, summed it up best: 'It was a useless, silly life,' he wrote many years later, 'and I have missed it every day since.'"
[from Found Meals of the Lost Generation: Recipes and Anecdotes from 1920s Paris by Suzanne Rodriquez-Hunter]
Not that I don't live a silly life now...I have a standing bet with my roommates that the first one of us to slip outside on the snow/ice owes the rest of us ice cream. And I came about ------- that close to falling flat on my butt today. Close but no ice cream.