Looking back I’ve had many fifteen-minutes of fame. A rave in The Times or quotes on television is transitory in the scheme of posterity. Creating a role or appearing in print brings an illusion of longevity, but reality of long-lasting in the big picture remains out of ones grasp. Reaching for the stars is more than the brass ring. And playing with Gods on Mount Olympus seems out of hand. Does the Oracle of Delphi have the answer? Maybe the question remains unfulfilled. Or is Voltaire correct that we are what we are in this best of all possible worlds?