"Tobacco's secret, magic gift is solace. Simple solace. Smoking doesn't make you feel good, exactly; there's rarely any real pleasure in it. What it does is make you feel just a little better. Not quite as bad as a moment ago. Reliably, 100 per cent of the time, 20 to 60 times a day, you can light up a cigarette and maybe your problems and sorrows will all remain, but at least you've scratched that one urgent itch for the next few minutes. You've taken action, and bettered your lot, however briefly or illusorily. ... O World Bank and World Health Organization -- ye patricians in grey suits and United Nations politicians in phony white medical coats -- here's a news flash for you: The poor have the greatest need of that kind of solace. They have damn little else. You make your living on their backs: You cannot convince me you honestly believe that raising the cost of that pitiful solace will brighten or lengthen their lives. You cannot convince me 42 million poor people will quit smoking, abandon the only comfort you have left them, if you raise the price by 10 cents a pack. I resent the implication that I look that gullible."