A Writer's Wit

Gravity ages us. After forty our jowls, armpits, breasts and buttocks sag toward the impatient earth. Lean over a glass table and see yourself as you will be in ten years. Now throw back your head, and see how you once were. Like every living thing always, we are all corpses on parole.
Ned Rorem
Born October 23, 1923

N. Rorem

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