I don’t hate him. I just wish he’d be kind enough to walk over the edge of a very steep cliff so that I can peer over as he’s plummeting, and as soon as he hits the ground be able to say “huh, would ya look at that”.
I said to my Professor, “why mourn the death of Presidents, or anyone for that matter? The dead can’t hear us.” And he asked me if I believed in heaven. I said no. And then he asked if I had no faith in God. I said,
“You have it wrong. It’s God who has no faith in us.” –– Chapter 12