An old poem warns of this danger: Sometime when you’re feeling important, Sometime when your ego’s way up; Sometime when you take it for granted that you are the prize-winning “pup”; Sometime when you feel that your absence would leave an unfillable hole, Just follow these simple instructions, And see how it humbles your soul. Take a bucket, fill it with water, Put your hand in it up to your wrist. Now pull it out fast and the hole that remains Is the measure of how you’ll be missed. You may splash all you like as you enter, And stir up the water galore, But stop and you’ll find in a minute,
