it's your life so try and live it
if you don't have it now, you're then never gonna get it

But...then what? We will die and we will have protected...what? Protected from the world that, what, we do this or that, that our arms have made these movements and our mouths these sounds? Please. We feel that to reveal embarrassing private things, we have given someone something, that, like a primitive person fearing that a photographer will steal his soul, we identify our secrets, our pasts and their botches, with our identity, that revealing our habits or losses or deeds somehow makes one less of oneself. But it's just the opposite, more is more is more---more bleeding, more giving. These things, details, stories, whatever, are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs for anyone to see. What does he care where it is, who sees it, this snake, and his skin? He leaves it where he molts. Hours, days, or months later, we come across a snake's long-shed skin and we know something of the snake, we know that it's of this approximate girth and that approximate length, but we know very little else. Do we know where the snake is now? What the snake is thinking now? No. By now the snake could be wearing fur. The snake could be selling pencils in Hanoi. The skin is no longer his, he wore it because it grew in front of him but then it dried and slipped off and he and everyone could look at it."

-A HEARTBREAKING WORK OF STAGGERING GENIUS

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