If you have not already done so, you may wish to read the
Introduction to Gnomica.
S 10 Mar 2012
An old man in love is like a flower in winter.
It’s not supposed to happen, for it is said to be the wrong time of year – as if there were a prescribed as well as a proscribed season for flowers, for love, for falling in love, for being in love. Is a flower less beautiful, less a wonder for appearing in life’s winter?
So irresistible can love be at times that like a flower pushing up through the crusted cover of a winter’s snow there is no carapace so tough — beneath which the despair of ever loving again has grown obdurate with age — that it can prevent a sprouting love from creating a fissure to gain entry.
What is age but a number? What is a chasm in age between lovers but the arithmetic difference that is minuend minus subtrahend?