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So the die was cast. My dreams of studying art in the great University now lay in ruins. I was bitterly disappointed. Until then, apart from the ordinary and short-lived sorrows of youth, life had been all sunshine and roses. This was the first severe disappointment I had encountered. For days I moped, brooding on the unfairness of life and feeling exquisitely sorry for myself. Then a curious thing happened. In the depths of my unhappiness, the thought came to me, "Dad must feel even worse about this than I do. It isn't his fault that he doesn't have the money." A wave of sympathy for him swept over me. To spare his feelings, I tried to appear cheerful about the matter and suddenly, in some strange way, the disappointment became easier to bear.
It occurred to me to try to find work in Berkeley, to earn enough for my living expenses and the fees for the courses I had planned to take. After all, other people worked