To Avoid Doing Anything, Wait For The

Alone, Lonely People Talk To Themselves. In Company, They Often Continue.

The Imaginary Audience For My Life Is Growing Small And Silent.

A Small Boy Puts His Hand On The Wall, And Looks Down Intently As He Wriggles His Toes. The Birth Of Thought?

In Youth, Love And Art. In Age, Investments And Antiques.

One Eventually Has Enough Even Of Oneself.