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I almost always approach books like this one with a high-lighter and red pen ready to pull out the gems and become part of the conversation. However, this book really didn't offer me much in the way of any formal note taking or even profound reflections. Upon first reading I only highlighted five expressions (an all-time low for an OCD reader like myself) throughout the entire text. This was probably due in large part to the extreme brevity of the text. I just didn't want these conversations to stop. I finished thinking to myself .. That's it?! ... You gotta be shitting me; two great writers and this is it? ... Oh well. After some reflection I did realize that this book was compelling enough to read it in one, though brief, sitting. And then I realized that I missed the point and that this book had nothing to do with the profound. The outcome of the writer often gives the reader the false impression that the process of writing is as bold as the end product but sometimes this process is anything but profound: it can be tedious, frustrating, and down-rite dull. Like most handshakes, those moments of exhilaration are fleeting and few and far between with those we most admire. So when I shake hands with God I now know not to expect too much. This book gave me the most positive sense of disappointment I can remember in a very long time. To paraphrase a comment Kurt Vonnegut made to Lee Stringer, this book was a wonderful gift in the process of soul building.