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“A man asks God to show him heaven and hell, and God presents to him two rooms. In the first, sickly people sit around the table, and in the center is a gigantic pot of delicious smelling soup. Each person can reach the pot, but their spoons ate so long that there is no way to get them back into their mouths. Each tortured soul struggles in vain to get a bite to eat. They writhe in pain as they fruitlessly ladle and starve. This, of course, is hell. And in the second room is the same table, the same soup, the same terribly long spoons--but this time, the diners, sated and happy, pour spoonfuls of soup into their neighbors' mouths. In hell, we starve alone. In heaven, we feed each other. I know two things as I write this: I am not healed, but I am also not alone.” — Jill Biden

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A man asks God to show him heaven and hell, and God presents to him two rooms. In the first, sickly people sit around the table, and in the center is a gigantic pot of delicious smelling soup. Each person can reach the pot, but their spoons ate so long that there is no way to get them back into their mouths. Each tortured soul struggles in vain to get a bite to eat. They writhe in pain as they fruitlessly ladle and starve. This, of course, is hell. And in the second room is the same table, the same soup, the same terribly long spoons--but this time, the diners, sated and happy, pour spoonfuls of soup into their neighbors' mouths. In hell, we starve alone. In heaven, we feed each other. I know two things as I write this: I am not healed, but I am also not alone.
— Jill Biden