Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them.
"Yes, summer was rituals, each with its natural time and place. The ritual of lemonade or ice-tea making, the ritual of wine, shoes or no shoes, and at last, swiftly following the others, with quiet dignity, the ritual of the front-porch swing.” -Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine