Most of me was glad when my mother died. She was a handful but not in a cute festive way. More in a life-threatening way that had caused me a long time ago to give up all hope of ever feeling good about having had her as a mother.
All all is theft all is unceasing and rigorous competition in nature the desire to make off with the substance of others is the foremost - the most legitimate - passion nature has bred into us and without doubt the most agreeable one.
