I'm honored that all the omnicompetent world has in some superseded stage of life effortlessly mastered the elementary discipline of being what is the eternally elusive object of my parched becoming; I respect with the utmost solemnity the universally implicit understanding that everyone now has something much more noble to do; and yet, for all this, I'm all the more utterly confused that none have as much passion for life as for pretense.
Thank you, you may resume.
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