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.
　　认为青春是快乐的，这是一种错觉，是那些失去了青春的人的一种错觉。年轻人知道，自己是不幸的，因为他们脑子里充斥着被灌输的不切实际的想法，每次与现实触碰时，都会碰得头破血流。似乎，他们是某种阴谋的牺牲者：那些他们所读过的精挑细选的书，那些长辈们谈起的因遗忘而蒙上玫瑰色薄雾的往事，都为年轻人描绘了一种不真实的生活。
　　他们必须自己发现，所有他们读到的、听到的东西，都是谎言、谎言、谎言。每一次的这样的发现，都像是另一根钉子钉入他们那被束缚在生活的十字架上的身体。可是奇怪的是，每个曾经被这種错觉折磨过的人，轮到他们时，有一种不可控制的力量，让他们不自觉地为别人增添同样的错觉。