You have a finite number of words in you. 

Oh, sure, that finite number may be huge.

But it is finite.

And there is absolute truth in the notion that every word you say or write removes from the remining tally one more word and brings you one word closer to the sum total of every word that you have sad or written and will ever say or write.

Should this thought paralyze you or make you rethink each of those words?

On the contrary. This notion should implore you spend every word that you can and get those words out into the universe sooner to be enjoyed, cherished, listened to or read sooner. You shouldn’t hesitate to send as many words as possible now—today, tomorrow, and then again every day after that—to grind down from the list of words you have left and spend every syllable in your due with raw abandon. You must do this because the more those words swirl and whirl around the world, through the eyes, ears, and fingertips of anyone who might hear or read them, the sooner their effects can be enjoyed, compounded, and folded back to you in a vast loop of feedback and communication. The sooner their value propigates. The sooner you will feel their purpose and effect.

The list of your words in is in of course fininte, but surely none of us know what that total number will come to until at the end our days and maybe into our last moments, we’ve typed our last keystroke or muttered our last gasp.

Thus, I implore you—don’t let that number come up short.