If I had the energy of a supernova, there would be no need to sleep. I would work all day and all night -- through the seasons of the year. The sun would rise, the snow would fall, the moon wax and wane -- but I would unceasingly, unfailingly produce.

Wouldn't it be wonderful? I could stop eating, no longer waylaid by urgent demands of body or heart. Six days and rest -- no, not for me -- that's for wimps.

And in the end, I would arrive at everything I ever wanted. My masterpiece, my magnum opus. No one else would appreciate it (or me) -- then again, who would give a damn? Would I?