Thank you for fulfilling me.

Westley 2022-04-20 09:01:40

dear Bob, you are so eager to do something big, be remembered, and become a legend, if you were born a few years earlier, would you and I be like-minded brothers? Ha, it's a pity that I'm not young anymore, is it you and I who meet so late, or are you born at the wrong time?

Being famous must be exhausting, people don't know that I'm tired of living like this. The wind is turbulent, the grass and trees are all soldiers, and the ability to trust has lost; running around, precarious, or even involving the wife and children

dear Bob, do it, fulfill me, let me die in the most gorgeous years, in the era when people still worship heroes, and finish my tired life .

I know that when I die, there will be a grand funeral, an exaggerated biography, and people will flock to this town to visit my apartment... and you, perhaps by taking my life, may become a new legend, May be notorious for being accused of plotting against me. After all, all this is false.

dear Bob, I just want you to kill me, not at least not just for the government's bounty, what you want is everyone's applause, right? Hope I read it right.

Thank you for fulfilling me.

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Extended Reading
  • Afton 2022-03-24 09:01:41

    i shot jesse james 1964 Samuel fuller

  • Shania 2022-04-23 07:01:49

    boring ~ disappointed ~

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford quotes

  • [first lines]

    Narrator: He was growing into middle age, and was living then in a bungalow on Woodland Avenue. He installed himself in a rocking chair and smoked a cigar down in the evenings as his wife wiped her pink hands on an apron and reported happily on their two children. His children knew his legs, the sting of his mustache against their cheeks. They didn't know how their father made his living, or why they so often moved. They didn't even know their father's name. He was listed in the city directory as Thomas Howard. And he went everywhere unrecognized and lunched with Kansas City shopkeepers and merchants, calling himself a cattleman or a commodities investor, someone rich and leisured who had the common touch. He had two incompletely healed bullet holes in his chest and another in his thigh. He was missing the nub of his left middle finger and was cautious, lest that mutilation be seen. He also had a condition that was referred to as "granulated eyelids" and it caused him to blink more than usual as if he found creation slightly more than he could accept. Rooms seemed hotter when he was in them. Rains fell straighter. Clocks slowed. Sounds were amplified. He considered himself a Southern loyalist and guerrilla in a Civil War that never ended. He regretted neither his robberies, nor the seventeen murders that he laid claim to. He had seen another summer under in Kansas City, Missouri and on September 5th in the year 1881, he was thirty-four-years-old.

  • Narrator: And so it went, Jesse was increasingly cavalier. Merry, moody, fey, unpredictable. He camouflaged his depressions and derangements with masquerades of extreme cordiality, courtesy, and goodwill towards others. But Even as he jested or tickled his boy in the ribs, Jesse would look over at Bob with melancholy eyes as if the two were meshed in an intimate communication. Bob was certain that the man had unriddled him; had seen through his reasons for coming along; that Jesse could forecast each of Bob's possible moves and inclinations and was only acting the innocent in order to lull Bob into a stupid tranquility and miscalculation.