{"text":"I talk. Jim runs. I tilt stones, Jim grabs the cold junk under the stones and -lickety-split! I climb hills. Jim yells off church steeples. I got a bank account. Jim’s got the hair on his head, the yell in his mouth, the shirt on his back and the tennis shoes on his feet. How come I think he’s richer?","author":"Ray Bradbury","tags":["boyhood","richness","wealth"],"id":83816,"author_id":"Ray+Bradbury"}