I Couldn't Have Said It Better

Blank Slate

“I’m glad to report that even now, at this late day, a blank sheet of paper holds the greatest excitement there is for me–more promising than a silver cloud, prettier than a little red wagon. It holds all the hope there is, all fears. I can remember, really quite distinctly, looking at a sheet of paper square in the eyes when I was seven or eight years old and thinking “This is where I belong, this is it.” … What is this terrible infatuation, anyway? Some mild nervous disorder, probably, that compels a man to leave a fiery tail in his wake, like a ten-cent comet …. I have moments when I wish that I could either take a sheet of paper or leave it alone, and sometimes in despair and vengeance, I just fold them into airplanes and sail them out of high windows, hoping to get rid of them that way, only to have an updraft bring them back in again.” –E B White