Every ball player arrives some time at his last pitch ...

Everybody swears everywhere ... Shakespeare and all the rest, all up and down the years they swore at life. Plain old mother talk ain't nowheres near strong enough to describe such a terrible mixup as life ...

Death quickens us for love for living friends.

Everybody knows everybody is dying. That's why people are as good as they are.

He will not die ... He will only pass on.

You all die soon enough, so why not be nice to each other?

We only stay alive by pipe dreams.

From here on I rag nobody.

Ain't it something? Being alive I mean! Ain't it really quite a great thing at that?

The number of things I do not remember or maybe never knew or am only in the foggiest haze is quite amazing.