You can be so much in a room that the world outside turns to water. You’ve got the heater blowing out burnt air, but you still don’t get warm. Your ankles are singed, but your head’s in a bucket of ice. Time drips like a stalactite. The water for the coffee boils away in a tree of steam.

If you approach the ocean with a cup, you can only take away a cupful; if you approach it with a bucket you can take away a bucketful.

Would you like me to go and stick my head in a bucket of water?

Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden.

You have to fill your bucket with positive energy—and if you have people hanging around you that are bringing you down and not lifting you up, whether that’s your ‘boo’ or your best friend—you have to learn how to push these people to the side.