What the hell-you might be right, you might be wrong...but don't just avoid.
Once a crowd chased me for an autograph. "Beat it", I said, "go sit on a tack!" "We made you", they said. "Like hell you did", I told them.
I'm what is known as gradually disintegrating. I don't fear the next world, or anything. I don't fear hell, and I don't look forward to heaven.
I don't think that work ever really destroyed anybody. I think that lack of work destroys them a hell of a lot more.
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