Old Age Is An Insult. It's Like

Truth Disappears With The Telling Of It.

Somewhere In The Heart Of Experience There Is An Order And A Coherence Which We Might Purprise If We Were Attentive Enough, Loving Enough, Or Patient Enough.

But I Love To Feel Events Overlapping Each Other, Crawling Over One Another Like Wet Crabs In A Basket

They Say That If You Get Bored Enough With Calamity You Can Learn To Laugh.

I Am Quite Alone. I Am Neither Happy Nor Unhappy; I Lie Suspended Like A Hair Or A Feather In The Cloudy Mixtures Of Memory.