Sometimes, in the evening, you are glad
that another day is over: but you don’t feel the satisfaction of the people
who made the best of their
time, who enjoyed each instant as something magnificent and unique. You release
your day, you discharge it as
a burden, without thinking that it will never come back. You worry about tomorrow, but
forget to appreciate today. Thoreau talked about “… a life of quiet
desperation” (i.e. dull, lazy resignation).
Is this the way you want to live?
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