"Maturity is a high price to pay for growing up"
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Stoppard’s line lands like a toast that turns, mid-sip, into a warning. “Maturity” is framed not as an achievement but as a bill that comes due, and the slyness is in the accounting metaphor: we don’t simply become adults, we purchase adulthood with something we can’t quite name until it’s gone. The wit is surgical. “Growing up” sounds organic, inevitable, even wholesome; “a high price” implies bargaining, loss, and the faint suspicion that the deal was rigged from the start.
That tension is pure Stoppard: the brainy dramatist who makes ideas flirt with farce, then reveals the bruise underneath. His characters often live in the gap between cleverness and consequence, where language is both protection and trap. Here, the subtext is that maturity isn’t wisdom so much as accommodation. You learn what’s not going to happen. You stop believing your own improvisations. You acquire competence and call it character.
The line also pokes at the cultural romance of adulthood: the promise that settling down will settle you. Stoppard refuses the sentimental arc. Maturity, in this framing, is the domestication of appetite, the trimming of possibility to fit the available room. It’s funny because it’s a little ungrateful; it’s bleak because it’s recognizably true.
Context matters: Stoppard wrote across decades that watched postwar idealism curdle into managerial realism. The “price” is historical as much as personal: the moment when irony stops being a style and becomes a survival skill.
That tension is pure Stoppard: the brainy dramatist who makes ideas flirt with farce, then reveals the bruise underneath. His characters often live in the gap between cleverness and consequence, where language is both protection and trap. Here, the subtext is that maturity isn’t wisdom so much as accommodation. You learn what’s not going to happen. You stop believing your own improvisations. You acquire competence and call it character.
The line also pokes at the cultural romance of adulthood: the promise that settling down will settle you. Stoppard refuses the sentimental arc. Maturity, in this framing, is the domestication of appetite, the trimming of possibility to fit the available room. It’s funny because it’s a little ungrateful; it’s bleak because it’s recognizably true.
Context matters: Stoppard wrote across decades that watched postwar idealism curdle into managerial realism. The “price” is historical as much as personal: the moment when irony stops being a style and becomes a survival skill.
Quote Details
| Topic | Aging |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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