Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
If you could meet a historical figure, who would it be and why?
Assuming no babel fish technology – i.e. that we’d need a common language – I’d say William Blake, Walt Whitman, or Mark Twain. The latter would probably be the most fun, the middle the most uplifting, and the first the most insightful (or perhaps most mystical.)
In temperate climates, I like early Autumn — say, October. In the tropics, whatever period is neither intensely hot nor intensely monsoon-y, is aces. Where I’m at now: November through March.
Why? I overheat when it’s hot, and that’s unpleasant. I’m fine with rain, but being constantly waterlogged is no fun. I like a cool Goldilocks zone.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 