Youth demands more than ordinary life. Age clings to it.
All the powers of imagination combine in hypochondria.
Masks are what they seem to be; not so the faces beneath them.
When you can't figure out what to do, it's time for a nap.
Nostalgia keeps dissolving the ironic narratives in which I have contained my past.
Profundity often goes past the issue to some deep but useless truth.