Howard Jacobson compares young genius poets who die young (think Keats) versus old bores (don’t mention names, but he does, eg Wordsworth):

“We are shepherded into blooming longevity, and before we are able to ask ourselves if we wouldn’t rather burn with Walter Pater’s ‘hard, gem-like flame’ and then go out early, we find ourselves 110, unable to remember our name”

[Independent 23 September 2017]