Every day I am more and more convinced that there is not a single mature man in existence on this entire planet.
There probably isn't. I stopped aspiring to maturity years ago. That ship has sailed for me. I mean, really, what is the responsible thing these days? The idea of respectability stopped making coherent sense to me in high school. I blame Janet Jackson's nipple.
Forget the dead you've left; they will not follow you.
The vagabond who is rapping at your door, is standing in the clothes you once wore.