He was not so much burning the candle at both ends as he was hosing it down with a flamethrower. – RecklessPrudence
He knew he never had very long, and his habits almost personally guaranteed it. Self-maintenance was limited to a brief encounter with the toothbrush once a morning, a shower simultaneously, and whatever food seemed the most convenient at the time.
Those who cared for him told him not to burn his candle at both ends. He ignored them.
Too much to do.
Never enough time to do it in.
His first visit to any kind of medical clinic was also his last. When his kind neighbour and helpmate found him on the floor. Running a fever. Unable to move his legs. In a pool of his own piss and vomit.
Even then, he viewed medical interference as an inconvenience.
They were between him and his Art.
Too much to do…
He tried to escape five times. He had to get back to it. Had to finish.
“You *are* finished,” said the grumpy doctor who caught him the last time. “You aren’t burning your candle at both ends, you’re hosing it down with a flamethrower.”
He sighed in the confines of his wheelchair. “But oh my foes and oh my friends, it gives a lovely light…”
They were his last words.
It only took the populace three years to recognise his genius after he died.
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