Bigots grow old. As do lentil weavers. As do you. Trite but true.

I've hearn it said that when a man has eaten a hearty dinner, and goes to sleep with the hot sun pourin' right down on him, he's apt to see and hear a good many strange things before he wakes up.

Pretensor, a pretender, he that purposeth.

He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.