Why is there so much despondency with old age? An urge to go back in time and edit one's decisions? A feeling of lack of appreciation? Of irrelevance? Or the increasing physical constraints of age? It came to me the other day: Were I to die, no one would say, “Oh, what a shame! So young, so full Of promise — depths unplumbable!”
Requiem
Requiem
Requiem
Why is there so much despondency with old age? An urge to go back in time and edit one's decisions? A feeling of lack of appreciation? Of irrelevance? Or the increasing physical constraints of age? It came to me the other day: Were I to die, no one would say, “Oh, what a shame! So young, so full Of promise — depths unplumbable!”