The only advantage to growing old is that one loses one’s appetites. After the age of sixty-five one wishes to travel less, eat less, own less. At that point, there is no better way to end one’s day than with a few sips of an old Scotch, a few pages of an old novel, and a king-size bed without distractions.
I wonder if this is true for most people. It is not true for me.
