"I had heard some women make comments about my chest, so why not show it off? Nobody wants to see a fat guy in tights. That wouldn't be fair to the fans."

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Whoever sincerely believes that elevated and distant goals are as little use to man as a cow, that "all of our problems" come fromsuch goals, is left to eat, drink, sleep, or, when he gets sick of that, to run up to a chest and smash his forehead on its corner.

— Anton Chekhov