Beyond the accolades, material compensations, adulation and recognition of his undeniable comedic genius, this was a man who suffered. His tragic ending brings to mind the following poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson:
"Whenever Richard Cory went downtown,
We people on the pavement looked at him,
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked,
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good Morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich - yes richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace;
In fine we thought he was everything
To make us wish we were in his place
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
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