From Marcus Aurelius to Henry David Thoreau, notes and scribbles to oneself seem to have prepared the way for Frank Sinatra’s grand summation of My Way and Linda Ronstadt’s Hummings. Not all were stoic. Mine aren’t, at least not when the little satyr of satire mixes it up. Just like no system can be explained solely from within its own boundaries, life’s more interesting phenomena can’t too often be adequately described by strictly serious or purely logical musings. Profound, most hope-inspiring lessons stem from the rotten trunk of erstwhile shortfalls, and who could help bowing to Edith Piaf: "Non, je ne regrette rien..."
