Death does frame a person and somehow it is the good that stays.

For to be desperate is to discover strength. / We die of comfort and by conflict live.

So let the world go, but hold fast to joy.

One thing is certain, and I have always known it - the joys of my life have nothing to do with age. They do not change. Flowers, the morning and evening light, music, poetry, silence, the goldfinches darting about

Old age is not an illness, it is a timeless ascent. As power diminishes, we grow toward the light.

Go rich in poverty. Go rich in poetry. This nothingness is plentitude.

Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember nothing stays the same for long, not even pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.