My brother Max made my desk. It's a masterpiece, like a piano. Everybody who comes in my office loves my desk.
There's nothing wrong with making the best of one's declining years, but what does annoy me is the fatalism. Now that we're seriously in range of finding therapies that actually work against ageing, this apathy, of course, becomes an enormous part of the problem.
No member of our generation who wasn't a Communist or a dropout in the thirties is worth a damn.
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