| And then - BAM! You've (or someone from your relatives) got cancer. Or something. - True, man is mortal, but that is itself only half the evil. The trouble is that man is sometimes suddenly mortal, that's the tricky part! Basically, he can never say what will happen to him this evening. 'What an idiotic way of putting it...” thought Berlioz, and objected: - Certainly, that is an exaggeration. I know more or less exactly what will happen this evening. Of course, if a brick falls on my head on Bronnaya... - Bricks are out of the question, - the stranger broke him off sharply, - not a single brick will ever fall on anybody's head. Under no circumstances, I assure you, does this constitute a threat. You will die a different death. - And perhaps you know just which? - inquired Berlioz with the most natural irony, he had clearly been drawn into some kind of absurd conversation, - and can tell me? - Certainly, - responded the stranger. He measured Berlioz with his gaze, as if he were sewing him a suit, and mumbled through his teeth, something like: 'One, two... Mercury in the second house... the moon is down... six - misfortune... evening - seven...” - then he loudly and delightedly proclaimed: - You'll have your head cut off!” - The Master and Margarita. Mikhail Bulgakov. |
While someone poor would probably end up being unable to pay for his painkillers and dying while praying to his relatives so that someone killed him not to endure his death.
So no, rich people do have a better ability to hedge their risks.