Life & Wisdom Quote by Oliver Herford

Herford’s line is a neat little optical trick: it takes two things we’re trained to dread - getting older and being far away - and reframes them as aesthetic advantages. “Double charm” isn’t just a compliment; it’s a claim that time and space don’t merely soften an experience, they beautify it, adding a second layer of pleasure on top of the first. The phrase “like distance” cues the mechanism. Distance is the classic editor: it blurs the harsh edges, crops out the awkward bits, and leaves a composition that feels more coherent than the messy original. Herford suggests age works the same way, not by improving the facts but by improving the framing.

The subtext is gently cynical. If age charms, it’s partly because memory is a talented liar. Nostalgia isn’t a scrapbook; it’s a filter. What once annoyed us becomes “quirky,” what hurt us becomes “character-building,” what was boring becomes “simpler times.” In that sense, age is less a moral arc than a post-production process: our past is constantly being recut to make better narrative sense.

Context matters, too. Writing in an era infatuated with wit, epigram, and the social performance of cleverness, Herford treats wisdom not as a sermon but as a knowing shrug. The line flatters the reader into recognizing their own revised histories: the old love, the old city, the old self, all improved by the merciful fact that they’re no longer right here. The charm is “double” because it’s both the thing itself and the story we’ve learned to tell about it.