My mother wanted to shrink from my clinging, but did not.

Living too long exacts a painful price.

A laughing Lear would be monstrous. Not so a laughing Romeo and Juliet.

The body has a mind of its own.

Innocence: I am only stepping on your face because it lies in my path.

In middle age, I practiced feeling old, but the real thing has been a rude surprise.

Loving, not the beloved, is the joy of love. The beloved, knowing this, most resolutely declines to be grateful.