The freedom to make mistakes is the one and only bonus of getting old.
Wars are started by the truth. Peace is proclaimed with lies.
There is no old age. There is, as there always was, just you.
Looking out of a hospital window is different from looking out of any other. Somehow you do not see outside.
I did not survive everything. No one ever does. Little pieces of you - sometimes the best of you - get lost in a little lie here, a little joke there. And of course, the aftereffect is the tiny sob - unseen, unheard, deeply felt.
The dying process begins the minute we are born, but it accelerates during dinner parties.