As long as you live, there's always something waiting; and even if it's bad, and you know it's bad, what can you do? You can't stop living.
Wrinkles and bones, white hair and diamonds: I can't wait.
Poor slob without a name. It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name. But I haven't the right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I. I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together.
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