Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.
We are the miracle of force and matter making itself over into imagination and will. Incredible. The Life Force experimenting with forms. You for one. Me for another. The Universe has shouted itself alive. We are one of the shouts.
Get rid of those friends of yours who make fun of you and don’t believe in you. And when you leave here tonight, go home, make a phone call and fire them. Anyone that doesn’t believe in you and your future, to hell with them.
