Quentin Crisp ends The Naked Civil Servant with cheeky yet profound meditation on the sense of an ending.
[…] an autobiography is an obituary in serial form with the last installment missing. We think we write definitively of those parts of our nature that are dead and therefore beyond change, but that which writes is still changing — still in doubt. Even a monotonously undeviating path of self-examination does not necessarily lead to a mountain of self-knowledge. I stumble toward my grave confused and hurt and hungry. …
Time for a spot of tea and a nibble.
And so for day 501