Not he who has much is rich, but he who gives much.
I would not change my blest estate for all the world calls good or great.
Who, being loved, is poor?
Some have too much, yet still do crave; I little have, and seek no more. They are but poor, though much they have, And I am rich with little store.
The countless gold of a merry heart, The rubies and pearls of a loving eye, The indolent never can bring to the mart, Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.
You were never poor as long as you had something to love.
For me this was never a money issue, it was about being rich in your heart. To come home, and to be in the place where your dream first started, 15 minutes away from where my grandfather built my first basketball court, is a dream come true.
