As for Gussie Finknottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming on sight.
I am my heart’s undertaker. Daily I go and retrieve its tattered remains, place them delicately into its little coffin, and bury it in the depths of my memory, only to have to do it all again tomorrow.
Let us so live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.