People often imagine that being hard to please confers a certain superiority.
My neglected duties crowd around me in my dreams, murmuring.
Thoughts can be revised. Deeds cannot.
Often, when I want to consult my impulses, I cannot find them.
My father liked to moralize, and so do I. But he was in earnest, while I am embarrassed and pretend that I am merely being witty.
I am now old enough to make common cause with my predecessors against my successors.