You’re a fool, Donald. You always were. You and your dumb, dead wife that you never, ever shut up about. Principled? Idealistic? A champion for the people? What did you ever actually do? Nothing. The great crusader? I don’t think so. You just liked the position of the bumbling idiot that you are. The optimist. The idealist. You loved it so much that you couldn’t even make a deal or move a single thing forward. You have a legacy of nothing.
You know what Francis said to me when he proposed? I remember his exact words. He said, “Claire, if all you want is happiness, say no. I’m not gonna give you a couple of kids and count the days until retirement. I promise you freedom from that. I promise you’ll never be bored.” You know, he was the only man, and there were a lot of others who proposed, but he was the only one who understood me. He didn’t put me on some pedestal. He knew that I didn’t want to be adored or coddled. So he took my hand and put a ring on it. Because he knew I’d say yes.
It’s important to be organized and ruthless. Three piles, I always say. The stuff you wanna keep, the stuff you might need later that you put in storage, and the stuff you have to destroy.