That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees, – Those dying generations – at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect.
Harry: What is this we're listening to? Karen: Joni Mitchell. Harry: I can't believe you still listen to Joni Mitchell. Karen: I love her, and true love lasts a lifetime. Joni Mitchell is the woman who taught your cold English wife how to feel. Harry: Did she? Oh, well that's good. I must write to her sometime and say thanks.
posted by Florence at 
