"Do you know what I was smiling at?
You wrote down that you were a writer by profession.
It sounded to me like the loveliest euphemism I had ever heard.
When was writing ever your profession? It’s never been anything but your religion. Never.
I’m a little overexcited now. Since it is your religion, do you know what you will be asked when you die? But let me tell you first what you won’t be asked.
You won’t be asked if you were working on a wonderful, moving piece of writing when you died. You won’t be asked if it was long or short, sad or funny, published or unpublished.
You won’t be asked if you were in good or bad form while you were working on it.
You won’t even be asked if it was the one piece of writing you would have been working on if you had known your time would be up when it was finished—I think only poor Soren K. will get asked that.
I’m so sure you’ll only get asked two questions.
Were most of your stars out?
Were you busy writing your heart out?
If only you knew how easy it would be for you to say yes to both questions."