Here it is: To create is not to die. Let me tell you this. Listen. Do not look away. Do not close the book. Do not turn off the light. A closed page, eyelids dropped, darkness, amounts to death for me. Keep me alive. Read on. Wait. Here it comes.
When I cough I rattle and afterwards I hope it is my last cough. Not my last cough. I want to know before my last cough so I can achieve the greatest last cough. Shakespeare achieved a thunderous cough and then shat his pants and died. That’s what happens. You cough. You shit your pants. You die.