I have heard of a poor man who was carring a load of sticks when he became tired and sat down on the bank. Laying his sticks on the ground, he said: " I am sick and tired of this. I wish Death would come to relieve me ." Instantly, Death slipped up and said, " Here I am. What do you want of me?"
" I want you to help me put this bundle of sticks on my back again," said the poor man.
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