There is always, among the things I must do, the one I want least to do. This thing is also the one that weighs on me most, its weight increasing in proportion to the amount of time I spend not doing it.
I know that to be happy, I must do this thing, and yet time and again I put it off.
Even now, as I write this, there is something else I should be doing.
A man signs a shovel and so he digs.
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