All I had to do was to draw out my revolver and pop him over, as Hubert calls it. How he
Jumped when the bullet struck him! Poor fellow!
“I don't know about his being so poor
Everybody says ‘Poor Adry!’”
Mr. Long continues
Does not suffer very much
He can't run and ride and hunt like a man
And he is more dependent on the family than a man would like
If he only knew it, but he doesn’t
The very people we pity most:
Lunatics, idiots, people
In the last stages of sickness
Are not half as miserable as we make them out
Their case hurts us
Looking on, more than it hurts them
We say, “How I would hate it if it was I!” But it isn't I, it's they. They themselves don't suffer half what we think. Just so about the dying
When a man is prepared to die
It hurts us more to see him die
Than it does him to do it
And that brings us to...