"Anthony Winkle slowly came back to wakefulness through curtains of white mist that dissolved one by one, until he was fully conscious. For a few minutes he lay there, staring at the rough ceiling of his little cabin in the pine woods. A suspicion was growing in his mind. Finally he moved his right hand to his chin, and the suspicion became certain knowledge. Fascinated, he followed the beard with his hand. It ended a little short of his knees. "So it really happened," he said to himself. "I always wondered if it might run in the family." He shifted one leg, and grunted. His joints were stiff, as well they might be. But there was no hurry. He'd take his time."
A Help-Your-Self Booklet, 1960