Anyone can see that the brightest and best die, wiped out right along with fools and idiots. They leave all their prowess behind, move into their new home, The Coffin, The cemetery their permanent address. And to think they named counties after themselves! We aren’t immortal. We don’t last long. Like our dogs, we age and weaken. And die. This is what happens to those who live for the moment, who only look out for themselves: Death herds them like sheep straight to hell; they disappear down the gullet of the grave; They waste away to nothing— nothing left but a marker in a cemetery. But me? God snatches me from the clutch of death, he reaches down and grabs me. So don’t be impressed with those who get rich and pile up fame and fortune. They can’t take it with them; fame and fortune all get left behind. Just when they think they’ve arrived and folks praise them because they’ve made good, They enter the family burial plot where they’ll never see sunshine again. We aren’t immortal. We don’t last long. Like our dogs, we age and weaken. And die.
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