One of the sadder things, I think,
Is how our birthdays slowly sink:
Presents and parties disappear,
The cards grow fewer year by year,
Till, when one reaches sixty-five,
How many care we’re still alive?
Philip Larkin
I wouldn’t mind seeing China if I could come back the same day. Philip Larkin
The eyes of strangers
Are cold as snowdrops….
Philip Larkin