It sounded like a piece of blackboard being dragged over the nails of a wall of severed fingers.

So many things to see, people to do.

There's none so blind as those who will not listen.

Life is like a box of Hand grenades,You never know what will blow you to kingdom come

Some things are fairly obvious when it's a seven-foot skeleton with a scythe telling you them

But we never get back our youth… The pulse of joy that beats in us at twenty becomes sluggish. Our limbs fail, our senses rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to.