My regimen is lust and avarice for exercise, gluttony and sloth for relaxation.
I feel that I have something significant to say, but I cannot think what it is.
In the great cities, winter glitters with art and feasting. But poetry, the country cousin, sees only the dearth of the fields.
Healthy vanity sweeps through life. Sickly vanity lies in bed.
The time I kill is killing me.
Alzheimer's usually comes later than AIDS, but I decline to call that progress.