Anyone would think a thin stick like me, weak and miserable would go down with everything: do you think I get more than my cough every winter? I bet I live till ninety, with all my aches and pains. To think that's fifty more years of the Great-I-Am.
I bet I live till ninety, with all my aches and pains. To think that’s fifty more years of the Great I-Am. No wonder I want to make away with myself. Who wouldn’t?
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