When my pal sensed that in a few weeks the sunshine of life used to be about to be extinguished, and that there was no more hope for him, he known as me to his facet and stated, "If best I had lived my existence another way, I might now not have felt such an emptiness now. Promise me," he caught my hand, "Promise me that you won't make the same mistake." And when I requested him what mistakes, he requested me to get a pen and paper and to jot down his last phrases. Right here they're in condensed kind:
