You Have To Work At Creating Your

So, Have We Solved The Secret Of Happiness? "i Believe So," He Said Are You Going To Tell Me? "yes.ready?" Ready. "be Satisfied." That's It? "be Greatful." That's It? "for What You Have.for The Love You Receive.and For What God Has Given You." That's It? He Looked Me In The Eye.then He Sighed Deeply. "that's It.

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.

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.

There Is No Such Thing As 'too Late' In Life.

Lost Love Is Still Love. It Takes A Different Form, That's All.