In The Last Stages Of

There's A Little Vanity Chair That Charlie Gave Me The First Christmas We Knew Each Other. I'll Not Be Parting With That, Nor Our Bed - The Four-poster - I'll Be Needing That To Die In.

People Who Refuse To Rest Honorably On Their Laurels When They Reach Retirement Age Seem Very Admirable To Me.

We Relish News Of Our Heroes, Forgetting That We Are Extraordinary To Somebody Too.

All Through The Long Winter, I Dream Of My Garden. On The First Day Of Spring, I Dig My Fingers Deep Into The Soft Earth. I Can Feel Its Energy, And My Spirits Soar.

Legends Die Hard. They Survive As Truth Rarely Does.