“Why don't you hurry!”
Death waits for no man, but I'll be damned if I rush to meet him. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.
I've no mind to hurry. Motion is not progress. I will plod along at the pace I am going because I know no mistakes will dog my heels. I will not circle back and around again to make it right.
When I was young, I thought and acted like a child, but now childish ways are left for the children.
My thoughts race before me making ten mistakes before I take a misstep. In this way I have died ten thousand deaths. Before my race is finished, I expect as many again.
Death has courted me these many years and you ask why don't I rush.