Explore "Farmington" by Clarence Darrow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The life of the child is not the life of the man, and the town of the child is not the town of the man.
I can never see Farmington except through my boyhood's eyes, and no doubt the town and its people were not at all the same to the men and the women that they were to me. Every object meant one thing to them and quite a different thing to our childish minds. As I grew to boyhood, the mill-pond was only a place where I could fish and skate and swim, and the great turning wheel served only to divert my wondering eyes and ears as it kept up its noisy rounds. The old mill furnished us boys a place to hide and run and play our games. The whole scheme of things was ours, and was utilized by a boy's varying needs to help fill up his life.