twenty-seven years and one million words
One thing about being back in a land where you have basic fluency. You understand idle chatter.
In the elevator this afternoon, one woman said to her friend, "Ooo, he's got big feet."
"Just how you like 'em," says her friend without missing a beat.
Of course, understanding is not the same as having the wit to respond.
It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.
—Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.