I Want Death To Find

As For Extraordinary Things, All The Provision In The World Would Not Suffice.

I Agree That We Should Work And Prolong The Functions Of Life As Far As We Can, And Hope That Death May Find Me Planting My Cabbages, But Indifferent To Him And Still More To The Unfinished State Of My Garden.

I Honor Most Those To Whom I Show Least Honor; And Where My Soul Moves With Great Alacrity, I Forget The Proper Steps Of Ceremony.

When A Roman Was Returning From A Trip, He Used To Send Someone Ahead To Let His Wife Know, So As Not To Surprise Her In The Act.

Is It Not Enough To Make Me Come Back To Life Out Of Spite, To Have Someone Who Spat In My Face While I Existed Come And Rub My Feet When I Am Beginning To Exist No Longer?