Critics Are More Committed To The Rules

As The Tenor Roars His Passion, I Think Sadly Of My Spreading Middle, And His.

To Postpone Unpleasantness Is Human; To Forget It Is Divine.

With Every Physical Pain, My Moral Fibre Unravels A Little.

With Age, Comfort Becomes More Seductive Than Beauty.

Prudence Suspects That Happiness Is A Bait Set By Risk.