Everything changes with time. You can't predict where you're gonna be next year; you have no idea, you know what I mean?
One of the proud joys of the man of letters --if that man of letters is an artist is to feel within himself the power to immortalize at will anything he chooses to immortalize. Insignificant though he may be, he is conscious of possessing a creative divinity. God creates lives; the man of imagination creates fictional lives which may make a profound and as it were more living impression on the world's memory.
...the story of a man who saw three fellows laying bricks at a new building:He approached the first and asked, What are you doing?Clearly irritated, the first man responded, What the heck do you think I'm doing? I'm laying these darn bricks!He then walked over to the second bricklayer and asked the same question.The second fellow responded, Oh, I'm making a living.He approached the third bricklayer with the same question, What are you doing?The third looked up, smiled and said, I'm building a cathedral.At the end of the day, who feels better about how he's spent his last eight hours?