“A man arrives without possessions and he leaves without possessions. In the interval, while he does have all his stuff, he cannot sleep because he worries about it. What a deal. But if he works hard and frets and worries a whole lot, he can make sure that his fine clothes (for the short time that he does have them) are nothing but nice wrapping paper for ulcers . . . Solomon calls it a sore evil. Here he is, there he goes. He labored all that while for the whistling wind, working to amass his very own tresaury of balloon juice. For that reward he ate his meals in darkness, suffered his sorrow and wrath, and added it all to his sickness. Better him than me” (Joy at the End of the Tether, p. 64).
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