Dear You

Nursing my shocking misfortune...

Dear you,
 
Nursing my shocking misfortune and trying to remember who it was who whispered in my ear “whole, half- and quarter-errors are most difficult and wearisome to put right, to sort out”. Once more I find myself asking, was it you? Was it Goethe?
 
The advancing years proving predictable trial, if only I’d have listened sooner,
X

Of all life’s principles, fairness is not one of them...

Dear you,
 
As someone wise once said to me, of all life’s principles, fairness is not one of them. Was it you, or was it in some novel I read as I travelled from Port Macquarie to Sydney?
 
Yours now high in search of possessions lifted from suit pocket as I slept, a copy of Maigret and the Burglar’s Wife where once my wallet and gold lighter,
X