I've always liked this quotation. It appeals to something inside me. Perhaps a goal I will never perfectly attain, but desire to anyway.
Thus I spoke to my husband-to-be when we were cleaning up the house in advance of the wedding we planned in our house. He's a pack rat, a trait honestly inherited from his mother. He regaled me with stories of her infamous 2 sheds of crapola she had in the back yard. Evidently, one shed wasn't enough.
Cliff collected useless stuff in the vague hope he'd need it some day, as I suppose his mother did. He used to give often to public television and had the mugs to prove it. Cheap glass, old albums in pathetic condition, all kinds of stuff not worth a plug nickel. I half suspect he held out hope *something* might increase in value, as one hears plates from the Franklin Mint do. However, I promise you the ubiquitous Christmas Tree-shaped clear glass that held candies ain't one of 'em.
You should have heard the whining when I made him throw the crap away! Pbbt!