What's it all about, Alfie?
Is it just for the moment we live?
What's it all about when you sort it out, Alfie?
Are we meant to take more than we give
or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind, Alfie,
then I guess it's wise to be cruel.
And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie,
what will you lend on an old golden rule?
As sure as I believe there's a heaven above, Alfie,
I know there's something much more,
something even non-believers can believe in.
I believe in love, Alfie.
Without true love we just exist, Alfie.
Until you find the love you've missed you're nothing, Alfie.
When you walk let your heart lead the way
and you'll find love any day, Alfie, Alfie.
the winter of my discontent
John Steinbeck.
"The ancient commission of the writer has not changed. He is charged with exposing our many grievous faults ... "
Thought they would get you going, Bill! I resemble that remark, though sloth wins as you get older
I proudly lust after envious gluttons, yet I sloth to be greedy over angry ones.
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I've never known exactly what it means, except this friend of mine always says it.
