"A lot of young people seem to have this illusion about old people, and think they’re all wise and sweet like Grandma. But there are some real nasty ones at my senior center. Some sweet college students brought cupcakes today, and some of the residents were running off with them by the armful. They could make a sitcom about that place."
Sometimes he thought of past love affairs as graffitti written across the story of his life. Most of it was easily wiped away with a rag and any kind of cleaning fluid. In contrast, there were a few scribbles that had been drawn with black permanent ink. These were tougher to remove. Sometimes no matter how much he rubbed and scrubbed, faint traces of them remained for a long time. Finally there was the graffitti that had been carved deep into his surface with a sharp knife and fierce determination. It was usually small because any carving *that* deep took time and real effort. But it was the most permanent. No way could he ever erase it unless layers of himself were sanded away and obviously that was impossible. The only thing to do was accept it as part of his being now, like a scar or a bad tattoo. As it aged in years to come, it became less visible but never disappeared.
"I tend to be cynical about a lot of things, but Maya Angelou is somebody that no matter how much I pick her apart, she still has integrity. She was a victim of incest and rape, and she worked as a stripper. And now she’s a literary icon and Nobel Laureate. It goes to show that life is cumulative, and you can’t devalue any type of experience."