He complained, among other things, about poor sales and the rising cost of living. Today, as I sit here writing my diary entry for the day, I find myself remembering his answer. Imagine that you are a prisoner sitting in a cell, and the briefcase is right there beside you.
Money means nothing without freedom.
Come out and walk over to me. Open the door to my cage. Pry it open and let me fly away. Let me fly. Let me try my wings.