...until it killed him.
When I meet my final end (hopefully many, many decades from now), let no one say: "He died doing what he loved." If I'm killed participating in an activity that I loved, I'll bet I wasn't enjoying it right up until the end. And if I knew that this activity would eventually kill me, I probably never would have done it in the first place, let alone grow to love it.
1 comment:
This makes sense to me. But be careful if you ever find yourself saying something like, "No I won't go outside and do some gardening! I'd rather die!"
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