Sometimes it honestly breaks my heart to think ill never come close to reading all the great books, listen to all the beautiful new sounds, watch the greatest film and television, or read all the incredible articles that are produced by the bucket load every single day. That says nothing of art or wine or food or beer. It’s hopeless and sad, and freeing, somehow. I wish I could put my head under the waterfall and take in every drop, but it’s just too much. Not even close. Maybe in the next lifetime, or whatever the ever-after shapes up to be.