Your Mind's Always Juggling, Isn't

But Souls Can't Be Sold. They Can Only Be Lost And Never Found Again.

Looking Back Over A Lifetime, You See That Love Was The Answer To Everything.

A Book Has Got To Smell. You Have To Hold It In Your Hands And Pray To It.

Everyone Must Leave Something Behind When He Dies, My Grandfather Said. A Child Or A Book Or A Painting Or A House Or A Wall Built Or A Pair Of Shoes Made. Or A Garden Planted. Something Your Hand Touched Some Way So Your Soul Has Somewhere To Go When You Die, And When People Look At That Tree Or That Flower You Planted, You're There.

That's The Great Secret Of Creativity. You Treat Ideas Like Cats: You Make Them Follow You.