Spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it all, right away, every time. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water.
[Annie Dillard]

The vulture eats between his meals
And that’s the reason why
He very, very rarely feels
As well as you and I.

His eye is dull, his head is bald
His neck is growing thinner.
Oh! What a lesson to us all
To only eat at dinner!

[speaking of homeliness–a poem by Hillaire Belloc, to which I was introduced when my brother, then eight, recited it at a talent show]