He asked me how his quotations could become "quotable." I told him a pretty bleak answer. "You have to die," I said with my best dry tone. This was one of the few times I was asked something, and my answer wasn't objected. He chuckled, and we both romanticized our own deaths. This was the last moment of substance we may have had.
What a great question, sir. But why ask something when you knew the answer already?
