Seize the Day

“My son is a sales executive. He didn’t have the patience to finish school. But he does all right for himself. His income is up in the five figures somewhere.”

This is not guesswork. You must take a few points and get out.

I approve of your attitude very much. You want to avoid catching the money fever.

He wanted to start out with the blessings of his family, but they were never given.

His father had to impress Mr. Perls? He would go along once more, and play his part. Fine

No, but you hate me. And if I had money you wouldn’​​​​​​t. By God, you have to admit it. The money makes the difference. Then we would be a fine father and son, if I was a credit to you—​​​​​​so you could boast and brag about me all over the hotel. But I’​​​​​​m not the right type of son. I’​​​​​​m too old, I’​​​​​​m too old and too unlucky.”

He is no longer the same person. He can’​​​​​​t bear trouble. I’​​​​​​m so choked up and congested anyway I can’​​​​​​t see straight. Will I ever get out of the woods, and recover my balance? You’​​​​​​re never the same afterward. Trouble rusts out the system.

“​​​​​​But I’​​​​​​m telling you that from the time I met her I’​​​​​​ve been a slave. The Emancipation Proclamation was only for colored people. A husband like me is a slave, with an iron collar. The churches go up to Albany and supervise the law. They won’​​​​​​t have divorces. The court says, ‘​​​​​​You want to be free. Then you have to work twice as hard—​​​​​​twice, at least! Work! you bum.’

As far as the fatal part of it goes, everyone on this side of the grave is the same distance from death.

Everybody wants to have intimate conversations, but the smart fellows don’​​​​​​t give out, only the fools. The smart fellows talk intimately about the fools, and examine them all over and give them advice. Why do I allow it?