Company of ImmortalsConfessions of an Advertising Man

The lights are bright on 48th, the world is moving fast. But don’t believe the lie that the greatest days are past. You aren't selling to an army that’s standing in the shade. You're selling to a restless and a "marching parade". Every morning there’s a new soul entering the street. Looking for a rhythm and a Big Idea to meet. The door is never locked, the ink is never dry. The only limit is the "duffer" who refuses to try. I remember the young man, twenty-four and bold. He didn't wait for permission, didn't do what he was told. He wrote a hundred-page report on the future of the screen. A surgical analysis, the best I’d ever seen. I sent it to the masters, I shouted out his name. That’s how you light the fire, that’s how you join the game. It’s not for the committee, it’s not for the faint. It’s for the "Wizard," the sinner, and the saint. The parade keeps on marching, the signals are sent. Will your life be a "ship in the night"—or a moment well spent? But don’t look at your neighbors to see how high to climb. Don't measure your soul by the standards of your time. If you want the crown, you’ve got to raise your head. Stop racing the living—start competing with the dead. Does it make you gasp? Will it run for years? Or is it just a "ship in the night" for mediocre peers? The Wizard is leaving, the seat is for you. Be the first-rate version in all that you do. It’s not for the committee, it’s not for the faint. It’s for the "Wizard," the sinner, and the saint. The parade keeps on marching, the signals are sent. Will your life be a "ship in the night"—or a moment well spent?