Between grief and nothing, I will take grief. - William Faulkner

I don’t like the climate, the people, their way of life. Nothing ever happens and then one morning you wake up and find that you are 65.

How do our lives ravel out
into the no-wind, no-sound,
the weary gestures wearily recapitulant:
echoes of old compulsions with no-hand on no-string:
in sunset we fall into furious attitudes,
dead gestures of dolls.

A man is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you'd think misfortune would get tired, but then time is your misfortune.