Image source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Quintus_Horatius_Flaccus.jpg
For the poet, to say "I" is not to take off a mask, but to put one on.
Never freak out when everything goes wrong: that won’t last long. Don’t strut your stuff when you’ve raked in a hefty pot: you’re not so hot. Whether your life has been a living hell that Dante couldn’t tell, or if you’ve basked in the best of everything the world can bring, life’s a balancing act. I’ll tell you why: you’re going to die, like it or not, so you might as well have fun before you’re done. Sip the champagne, buy paintings, sail a yacht, spend what you’ve got. Every clock is a time bomb: there’s no way to know when it will blow. The mint DeLorean, the Pacific Heights flat, even your pedigreed cat, it all ends up, whatever you did, with your slacker kid. The trust fund brat and the boy who grew up in a dump hold hands and jump into the pit we’re herded toward like cattle. You hear that rattle? The gods are shaking your dice: the next sunrise may be snake eyes. -------------------------------------------------------
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