. . . thinks more than he used to about dying? Who has night thoughts fended off by boyhood prayers? Who writes books in his sleep but nowhere else? Is it just me?
I DON’T THINK SO.
Night thoughts? Try Edward Young, with these four lines in blank but metered verse:
Procrastination is the thief of time,Year after year it steals, till all are fled,And to the mercies of a moment leavesThe vast concerns of an eternal scene.
I DON’T THINK THIS EITHER.