The knowledge of the difference between Right and Wrong separates us from Animals.
Or, Does it ?
I hear tell that a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. Now, I can't rightly judge one way or t'other, since I've hardly set foot out of Tumblweed. But it 'ppears to me that a journey ain't so much in the getting there as it is in all the steps a feller takes along the way.
It's kinda like what Gran'papy Abner always tells me: "My boy," he says, "If you keeps yer eye on the ball, and not on where yer steppin', yer likely to fall into a mess o' cow-patties."
The way Gran'papy tells it, he's taken his toll of spills and came up kickin', so I pay close mind to what he says.
The way I figures, it's a whole lot easier to learn from the spills other folks take, than to have a bunch of my own to tell about.
Besides, when I hurry, I misses the important things, like a mare licking her newly-born colt, or a dew drop on a rose pettle.
And when my body is rushing hither and yon, my head kind of shuts off, like a chicken who's had his head left on the chopin' block.
And I can't hear the voices when they utter -- I don't mean the words folks throws at me, or the thinking words that drift through my head, but those itty-bitty words that come from the heart when I'm still. Jonah had to be put in the hollow of a fish to hear them, and Job sat in a pile of ashes with a gunny sack over his head.
Now me, I ain't too keen on ashes, and I likes fish well enough, but in me, not the other way around.
So, I got to thinkin' one day, and I says, "Clem," that's me, I'm Clem -- Clementine Abernathy. "Clem," I says, "It's high time you sat down and wrote yourself a book."
"But I don't know nothing worth writing about," I argues right back, "and I ain't been nowhere worth a spit."
"You got that right as rain," my other self counters. (It's a trifle hard to be talked down about -- especial when there's no one to get mad at but your own self). "But you got a heap of little steps worth touting. And besides that, you're pressing twenty six years and you ain't got a whole bunch more to go."
Well, t'wern't a lot I could do to counter such logic. So I did just that.
I wrote this here book about little steps and itty-bitty voices.