His father had struck him before last night but never before had he paused afterward to explain why; it was as if the blow and the following calm, outrageous voice still rang, repercussed, divulging nothing to him save the terrible handicap of being young, the light weight of his few years, just heavy enough to prevent his soaring free of the world as it seemed to be ordered but not heavy enough to keep him footed solid on it, to resist it and try to change the course of its events.

From “Barn Burning,” by William Faulkner

I just reread this short story by William Faulkner.  As usual, his writings contain one of the best descriptive and powerful styles of prose in English.  Depending on the nature of the passage of a story, he can make words flow like a fish in a river or stamp along with heavy rhythmic steps like a heavyweight boxer.  In this snippet, William Faulkner alludes to the naivety of the young that “prevent his soaring free of the world.”  His view contrasts with the cult of youth that pervades our society.  What is the best age in a human being?  There is no best age as long as one is healthy and dreams of a future with challenges and personal growth.