You are not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your f*****g khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
Our job is to increase health. You know what that means? That means improving the quality of life, not just delaying death.
It makes no difference, it don’t make any difference to me what a man does for a living, you understand. But your business is a little dangerous.
Business is war. It’s dog eat dog, rat eat rat. If my competitor were drowning, I’d walk over and I’d put a hose right in his mouth.
All I’m saying is crime is still a business. You need a public relations department and we’ve got Joseph Goebbels.
This business is filled to the brim with unrealistic motherf*****s. Motherf*****s who thought their ass will age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar… it does. If you mean it gets better with age… it don’t.
No one can ever prepare you for what happens when you have a child. When you see the baby in your arms and you know that it’s your job now. No one can prepare you for the love and the fear.