You're supposed to get tired planting bulbs. But it's an agreeable tiredness.
Actors between plays are like ghosts looking for bodies to inhabit.
The best antidote I have found is to yearn for something. As long as you yearn, you can't congeal: There is a forward motion to yearning.
Learning when 'enough is enough' is the discipline of a lifetime.
What did a few ripples in the flesh matter when, all too soon, now or later, that flesh would be making its return journey to dust?
How easy it was to make people happy, when you didn't want or need anything from them.