What Color Is Your Parachute? (1970) - Plot & Excerpts
I think a lot about gratitude. I didn’t get here, alone. I do not stay here, alone. I am not inspired, alone. I am not able to write, alone. Everyone of us is part of a community; I like to say I’m a member of an earthly orchestra (I’m the piccolo player). I thank God that I am still in splendid, vigorous health, that I still have all my marbles and wits about me, that I love to write more than ever, that I love to help people more than ever—and that I am enchanted by every moment of my life with such a wondrous woman as my wife, Marci. We laugh together, all day long. Now I know that life is serious: we only get one shot at it, so far as we know. And that should lend a solemnity to life, that prevents us from just taking it casually. I have experienced my share of tragedy, on this Earth; sometimes I felt that I would never recover. So I empathize with everyone going through hard times. But still, there is a lot of humor to be found, day by day, in the ridiculous way we humans sometimes behave.
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