"Listen, Jake," he leaned forward on the bar. "Don't you
ever get the feeling that all your life is going by
and you're not taking advantage of it? Do you realize
you've lived nearly half the time you have to live already?"
"Yes, every once in a while."
"Do you know that in about thirty-five years more
we'll be dead?"
"What the hell, Robert," I said. "What the hell."
"It's one thing I don't worry about," I said.
"You ought to."
"I've had plenty to worry about one time or other.
I'm through worrying."
"Well, I want to go to South America."
"Listen, Robert, going to another country doesn't make
any difference. I've tried all that. You can't get away
from yourself by moving from one place to another.
There's nothing to that."
"But you've never been to South America."
"South America hell! If you went there the way you feel
now it would be exactly the same. This is a good town.
Why don't you start living your life in Paris?"