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Being Crazy Isn't Enough.

And The Grinch, With His Grinch-feet Ice Cold In The Snow, Stood Puzzling And Puzzling, How Could It Be So? It Came Without Ribbons. It Came Without Tags. It Came Without Packages, Boxes Or Bags. And He Puzzled And Puzzled 'till His Puzzler Was Sore. Then The Grinch Thought Of Something He Hadn't Before. What If Christmas, He Thought, Doesn't Come From A Store. What If Christmas, Perhaps, Means A Little Bit More.

You Have Brains In Your Head. You Have Feet In Your Shoes. You Can Steer Yourself In Any Direction You Choose. You're On Your Own, And You Know What You Know. And You Are The Guy Who'll Decide Where To Go.

You Can Get So Confused That You'll Start In To Race Down Long Wiggled Roads At A Break-necking Pace And Grind On For Miles Across Weirdish Wild Space, Headed, I Fear, Toward A Most Useless Place. The Waiting Place.

I Get All My Ideas In Switzerland Near The Forka Pass. There Is A Little Town Called Gletch, And Two Thousand Feet Up Above Gletch There Is A Smaller Hamlet Called Über Gletch. I Go There On The Fourth Of August Every Summer To Get My Cuckoo Clock Fixed. While The Cuckoo Is In The Hospital, I Wander Around And Talk To The People In The Streets. They Are Very Strange People, And I Get My Ideas From Them.