saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Don&#39;t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you&#39;ll have a trust fund. Maybe you&#39;ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either of them might run out.

These times are unfriendly toward Worlds alternative to this one

Written By Thomas Pynchon

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