A Lie Is An Act Of Theft.

You Do It A Day At A Time. You Just Put Your Rejection Slips In A Shoebox And Tell Yourself One Day You're Going To Autograph Them And Sell Them At Auction.

Don't Ever Quit. Never Quit. Never Show Anybody You're Hurt. Grin And Walk Through The Cannon Smoke. It Will Drive Them Up The Wall. You Always Stay True To Your Own Principles. You Always Believe In Your Gift. God Doesn't Make Mistakes When He Presents Someone With A Gift Like That. It's There For A Reason. Tell The Naysayers, Those Who Reject You, To Drop Dead! Who Cares?

I Believe Every...man Remembers The Girl He Thinks He Should Have Married. She Reappears To Him In His Lonely Moments, Or He Sees Her In The Face Of A Young Girl In The Park, Buying A Snowball Under An Oak Tree By The Baseball Diamond. But She Belongs To Back There, To Somebody Else, And That Thought Sometimes Rends Your Heart In A Way That You Never Share With Anyone Else.

Age Is A Peculiar Kind Of Thief. It Slips Up On You And Steps Inside Your Skin And Is So Quiet And Methodical In Its Work That You Never Realize It Has Stolen Your Youth Until You Look Into The Mirror One Morning And See A Man You Don't Recognize.

If You Don't Compromise Your Gift, If You Write Each Day As Well As You Can, And Then Submit Your Work And Not Worry About It And Go On To The Next Piece, You Suddenly Find Oddly Enough That You're No More Interested In The Applause Than The Silence. You Don't Hear Either One Of Them. You Can Never Listen To The Naysayers. If You Do You Won't Survive.