This is where I belong…

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 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.”

—E.B. White