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It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched, for they are full of the truthless ideals which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real they are bruised and wounded. It looks as if they were victims of a conspiracy; for the books they read, ideal by the necessity of selection, and the conversation of their elders, who look back upon the past through a rosy haze of forgetfulness, prepare them for an unreal life.

They must discover for themselves that all they have read and all they have been told are lies, lies, lies; and each discovery is another nail drivens into the body on the cross of life. The strange thing is that each one who has gone through that bitter disillusionment add to it in his turn,, unconsciously, by the power within him which is stronger than himself.

認為青春是快樂的，這是一種錯覺，是那些失去了青春的人的一種錯覺。年輕人知道，自己是不幸的，他們腦子里充斥了被灌輸的不切實際的想法，每次與現實接觸時，都會碰的頭破血流。似乎，他們是某種陰謀的犧牲者：那些他們所讀過的精挑細選的書，那些長輩們談起的因遺忘而蒙上玫瑰色薄霧的往事，都為年輕人提供了一種不真實的生活。

他們必須自己發現，所有他們讀到的、聽到的東西，都是謊言、謊言、謊言。每一次的這樣的發現，都像是另一根釘子釘入他們的身體，那被束縛在生活的十字架上的身體。可是奇怪的是，每個曾經被這種錯覺折磨過的人，輪到他們時，有一種不可控制的力量，讓他們不自覺地為別人增添這種錯覺。

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