Age does not make us childish, as some say; it finds us true children.

It must have meant something, though, that at this turn of my life I grabbed up a book. Because it was in books that I would find, for the next few years, my lovers. They were men, not boys. They were self-possessed and sardonic, with a ferocious streak in them, reserves of gloom.

Of all the things I am not very good at, living in the real world is perhaps the most outstanding.

I&#39;m always making a comeback but nobody ever tells me where I&#39;ve been.

Written By Billie Holiday

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