"The old man rests in the knowledge that he has lived. Your grandfather, for instance. Look at him in 1967, the year before his death. Though his mind is filled with wilderness, his thoughts amazingly, come out metered, as though he tames the wilderness of his thoughts. In disorder there is order. If his house, which is his sanctuary, is in disorder, he does not worry. Some time, in good time, he will give it order again, just as spring gives order to winter. And he does not care how he looks. He lets rue wind muss his hair if it wants to. He does not ask the love of his grandchildren, only that they let his hand rest for a moment on their heads."

K Soileau

via l.Gore