my favorite part of Famous, a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye:

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, 
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, 
but because it never forgot what it could do.


Oh heck, here is the whole poem.  Poems should be read in their entirity.


FAMOUS     by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence,   

   which knew it would inherit the earth   

   before anybody said so.   

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds   

   watching him from the birdhouse.   

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.   
The idea you carry close to your bosom   

   is famous to your bosom.   

The boot is famous to the earth,   

   more famous than the dress shoe,   

   which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it   

   and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.   

I want to be famous to shuffling men   

   who smile while crossing streets,   

   sticky children in grocery lines,   

   famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,   

   or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,   

   but because it never forgot what it could do.