I Have An Editor In

Old Age Is An Ordeal, Of Flesh And Mind. Of Winding Down, Of Slowing Down, Of Dying Cells. It's Accepting The Loss Of Physical Attractiveness And Replacing It With The Power And Wisdom That Can Only Come With Old Age.

I Want To Know What They Look Like, Their Height, And Colouring, Physique And Speech Pattens.

If You Love People, They Kill You. If You Need People, They Kill You. They Do I Tell You!

Perfection, In Anything, Is Unbearably Dull. Myself, I Prefer A Touch Of Imperfection.

Duty, The Most Indecent Of All Obsessions, Was Only Another Name For Love.