I was born to write. To put my imagination into words. That’s
how I get substance. And sustenance. From life. I create. And live fantasies.
With meaningful words. With language. If I didn’t have a language. I’d be
nothing. A being without thought. I
became conscious. Only when words came to mind. Words. Linked together. Made
the difference. Brought me to life. As I
master. More and more words. Obtaining an expanded vocabulary. That’s what keeps me alive. And conscious. I
have words. In my brain. When my brain is no more. Will I still have those
words. To ponder. In my soul. Or will I be no more? --Jim Broede
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