Anything that begins 'I don't know how to tell you this' is never good news.
Never give up. And never, under any circumstances, face the facts.
If you're thinking of becoming a critic, why not make other plans?
At seventy-four I'm getting minor raves on my looks, but I'm caught in the middle. Who knows what seventy-four looks like? Who cares? But if I'd listened to my friends, I could now lie and say I'm eighty-four. For eighty-four, the way I look is spectacular.
The good that men do lives after them.
Don't face the facts.