The thought cheers me. I may be in a position to murder time. The big net will tear and fall, with its sad contents, into oblivion. I'm owed some gratitude, but no one after my death will know I murdered time.

hat's how it always was: while I was slaving away I dreamed about how I would rest quietly and peacefully on the bench, but as soon as I finally sat down on the bench I grew restless, and started looking for new work to do.