It ain't my job.

I do it, but it's artificial, it ain't the real thing.

My heart isn't in it as yours is, and I'd go mad if I had to do this all my life.

It's full of excitement at times, it's hard work, it's stimulating when you're fighting, but other times it's deadly dull and bores me stiff.

I feel as though I were pulling a train of cars." Slowly the old man's face reddened with anger.