In A Newspaper, You Only Have So

Giving To Other People Makes Me Feel Alive. Not My Car Or My House. Not What I Look Like In The Mirror. When I Give My Time, When I Can Make Someone Smile After They Were Feeling Sad.

Now You Know How Badly Someone Wanted You, Charley. Children Forget That Sometimes. They Think Of Themselves As A Burden Instead Of A Wish Granted.

You'll Come To My Grave? To Tell Me Your Problems?" My Problems? "yes.' And You'll Give Me Answers? "i'll Give You What I Can. Don't I Always?" I Picture His Grave, On The Hill, Overlooking The Pond, Some Little Nine Foot Piece Of Earth Where They Will Place Him, Cover Him With Dirt, Put A Stone On Top. Maybe In A Few Weeks? Maybe In A Few Days? I See Myself Sitting There Alone, Arms Across My Knees, Staring Into Space. It Won't Be The Same, I Say, Not Being Able To Hear You Talk. "ah, Talk . . . " He Closes His Eyes And Smiles. "tell You What. After I'm Dead, You Talk. And I'll Listen.

It’s Not Just Other People We Need To Forgive. We Also Need To Forgive Ourselves. For All The Things We Didn’t Do. All The Things We Should Have Done. You Can’t Get Stuck On The Regrets Of What Should Have Happened. I Always Wished I Had Done More With My Work; I Wished I Had Written More Books. I Used To Beat Myself Up Over It. Now I See That Never Did Any Good. Make Peace. You Need To Make Peace With Yourself And Everyone Around You.

If You Really Could Fit God In A File, You Wouldn't Need To Believe In God, You Know, You'd Just Go Get The File Like A Box Of Corn Flakes Off The Shelf.