Thoughts on growing up/older/maturing/changing:

Someone once said to me, "But you are far too young to have ever experienced true love. You need your heart broken a good seven to ten times before you can actually appreciate a real lover. Few people under forty know what I'm talking about... maybe in another two or three decades you'll get the point."

Interestingly, Keats was only two years older than me when he died. Did Keats love?

Comparing my two current favorite poets, Keats and Yeats is quite interesting. Yeats lived into his 80s and loved *many* women, Keats his mere 20s and only claims true love with one (his Fanny). Yeats' early poetry is in many ways similar to Keats's in its abandon, though not it's sheer sorrow (Keats was dying), while his middle-aged poetry is much more mature and reflective. Moving onto his later stuff is just horribly depressing... What a beautiful man to become such a bitter old cynic... Age and The Ages will indeed change us... Lets hope we can figure out how to stay young...