One thing that I must confess without a trace of embarrassment is that I delight in my own writings over and over again. No matter where I venture in my magnum opus, which is nigh humongous by now, I feel outright thrilled. Actually, over the moon. Reading my own words that have been penned over so many years, I can tell with unabashed certainty that there is no contrivance behind them. None whatsoever. And this is where my bliss comes from ever anew. Everything I have written over no less than five decades is true to life. No bullshit, and no kidding. One way or another, there can be no better accolade than this one. And especially if it is addressed to one’s own endeavor. With some luck, my delight will follow me till my last breath. No bullshit from cradle to grave, to put it bluntly. If there is any idea worth pursuing all life long, this one strikes me as the winner. The only winner that flatters my fancy, anyway.