eve of destruction

In five years I’ll be 60. In fifteen years I’ll be 75. My skin is looking old, my hair is going white, and my friends are dying. It’s time to clean up my last act. So what do I want to do, what do I want to have done?
OK, the beautiful corpse thing is not happening, and not important anyway. What is? Love, art, movement. But the greatest of these is love.
Who do you love?
These are the four questions:
Who do you get the maddest at?
Who do you tell your troubles to?
Who do you want to wrap your arms around?
Who knows you?
Those are the people you love.
What are you going to do about it? What am I going to do about it?
Reason I can’t stop smoking today: Incipient old fartism