The ravaged face in the mirror hides the enchanting youth that is the real me.
To succeed, find the right rut and stay with it.
The chair as ideas fits only the bottom as idea.
In new situations, I look carefully at appearances. In familiar ones, I glance.
Ironic and jittery, we are puzzled by the old heroes with their fighting, boasting, and cocksure lovemaking.
Some crave grief like strong drink.