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Lauren Bacall

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A planned life is a dead life.

 
Lauren Bacall

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Somebody said to me this morning, 'To what do you attribute your longevity?' I don't know. I mean, I couldn't have planned my life out better. By all accounts I should be dead! The abuse I put my body through: the drugs, the alcohol, the lifestyle I've lived the last 30 years! Now, some rare fly will fly over me, crap on my shoulder, and I'll drop dead, you know? My life story is a real-life story.

 
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Everything in my life is planned. It adds stability, but it makes me yearn for something that's not planned, that's spontaneous.

 
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The important thing is to get yourself born. You’re entitled to that. But you’re not entitled to life. Because if you were entitled to life, then the life would have to be quantified. How many years? Seventy? Sixty? Shakespeare was dead at fifty-two. Keats was dead at twenty-six. Thomas Chatterton at seventeen.

 
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Well, life was tough, but at least I was able to live it out and I was able to face death and not be afraid. Well, now I'm ready to go to Heaven and be with Jesus, and...hey? Hey, what's this? Oh, God it feels like a man's DICK IN MY ASS! Oh, GOD!!! I'M DEAD!!! Oh, you mean life keeps on f**king you even after you're dead? Oh, it never ends! OH! OHHH!!!

 
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This was the past and it was the dead past; there were only corpses in it — and perhaps not even corpses, but the shadows of those corpses. For the dead trees and the fence posts and the bridges and the buildings on the hill all would classify as shadows. There was no life here; the life was up ahead. Life must occupy but a single point in time, and as time moved forward, life moved with it. And so was gone, thought Blaine, any dream that Man might have ever held of visiting the past and living in the action and the thought and the viewpoint of men who'd long been dust. For the living past did not exist, nor did the human past except in the records of the past. The present was the only valid point for life — life kept moving on, keeping pace with the present, and once it had passed, all traces of it or its existences were carefully erased.

 
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