There are some who complain of a man for doing nothing, there are some, still more mysterious and amazing, who complain of having nothing to do. When actually presented with some beautiful blank hours or days, they will grumble at their blankness. When given the gift of loneliness, which is the gift of liberty, they will cast it away, they will destroy it deliberately with some dreadful game with cards, or a little ball … I cannot repress a shudder when I see them throwing away their hard won holidays by doing something. For my own part, l can never get enough Nothing-to-do
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