There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire; it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp despondency of uneasy egoism.
What is ugly about life is that it so often only provides uneasy half solutions that are so seldom pure and tragic ones.
When I’m gigging, there’s an uneasy shift when I pull a puppet out. People look at me aghast and I feel I have about 20 seconds to win them over. You even get the prejudice among other people in your own profession.
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