I’d Better Not–
A man leaned over to a man in a pubAnd said in a voice‘I used to be thirty seven but now I’m fifty one’.And that’s how the years go.In handfuls.Like somebody is almost at the end of a bag of crispsAnd they tip the bag upAnd it’s as though they’re drinking crisps.That’s how the years go.”

“I just wish moments weren’t so fleeting!’ Isaac called to the man on the roof, ‘They pass so quickly!’ ‘Fleeting?!’ responded the tilling man, ‘Moments? They pass quickly?! . . . Why, once a man is finished growing, he still has twenty years of youth. After that, he has twenty years of middle age. Then, unless misfortune strikes, nature gives him twenty thoughtful years of old age. Why do you call that quickly?’ And with that, the tilling man wiped his sweaty brow and continued tilling; and the dejected Isaac continued wandering. ‘Stupid fool!’ Isaac muttered quietly to himself as soon as he was far enough away not to be heard.”

“Just as in the second part of a verse bad poets seek a thought to fit their rhyme, so in the second half of their lives people tend to become more anxious about finding actions, positions, relationships that fit those of their earlier lives, so that everything harmonizes quite well on the surface: but their lives are no longer ruled by a strong thought, and instead, in its place, comes the intention of finding a rhyme.”

“I became quietly seized with that nostalgia that overcomes you when you have reached the middle of your life and your father has recently died and it dawns on you that when he went he took some of you with him.”