The ravaged face in the mirror hides the enchanting youth that is the real me.
Paradox implies that stating a contradiction disposes of it.
One eventually has enough even of oneself.
The nature of language may determine what most people say, but I always speak my own meaning.
A dense undergrowth of extension cords sustains my upper world of lights, music, and machines of comfort.
After sixty, the self-questioning of middle age is obsolete.