My father had died, and very swiftly, too, of cancer of the esophagus. He was 79. I am 61. In whatever kind of a 'race' life may be, I have very abruptly become a finalist.
Littera scripta manet - 'The written word will remain'. That's true, but it won't be that much comfort to me.
I don't think the war in Afghanistan was ruthlessly enough waged.
The totalitarian, to me, is the enemy - the one that's absolute, the one that wants control over the inside of your head, not just your actions and your taxes.
I'm terrified of losing my voice.
I like surprises.
