Thinking, thinking, continuously thinking, you comfortably let days, months, years, decades slip away, and then you are so thankful that death arrives.

Thought serves a great purpose: it eats away your time. Otherwise, time will become such a burden.

Someone comes to you and demands, “Now is the time to climb up the hill. Are you ready with your trekking gear?”

And you say, “No, I am still thinking.”

So, all the effort and the pain that would have come with climbing the hill has been successfully avoided—you are still thinking.

Thinking is nice. Scaling the heights is arduous.