Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.

There is not a more repulsive spectacle than on old man who will not forsake the world, which has already forsaken him.

So I find words I never thought to speak In streets I never thought I should revisit When I left my body on a distant shore.

And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you I will show you fear in a handful of dust

In the last few years everything I'd done up to sixty or so has seemed very childish.

And right action is freedom From past and future also.

The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.