Faulkner on Work

(In answer to the question of what he would do to make a little money:)

Whatever came up. I could do a little of almost anything—run boats, paint houses, fly airplanes. I never needed much money because living was cheap in New Orleans then, and all I wanted was a place to sleep, a little food, tobacco, and whiskey. There were many things I could do for two or three days and earn enough money to live on for the rest of the month. By temperament I’m a vagabond and a tramp. I don’t want money badly enough to work for it. In my opinion it’s a shame that there is so much work in the world. One of the saddest things is that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day, day after day, is work. You can’t eat eight hours a day nor drink for eight hours a day nor make love for eight hours—all you can do for eight hours is work. Which is the reason why man makes himself and everybody else so miserable and unhappy.

Okay, so I guess I shouldn't support his alternative of indulging the sensual appetites instead of work, but I do support his position that "I don't want money badly enough to work for it. In my opinion it's a shame that there is so much work in the world." I couldn't agree more (I mean, except the days in which I'd love to throw lavish dinner parties with everything expensive delicious to eat and drink; and the days in which I want a balcony).