I think that somehow, we learn who we really are and then live with that decision.

We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all.

So, after all, we are but puppets, creatures of our fate, not commanding it but being molded by it.

Everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.

Since everybody is an individual, nobody can be you. You are unique. No one can tell you how to use your time. It is yours. Your life is your own. You mold it. You make it.

Lest I keep my complacent way I must remember somewhere out there a person died for me today. As long as there must be war, I ask and I must answer was I worth dying for?

Happiness is not a goal, it is a by-product. Paradoxically, the one sure way not to be happy is deliberately to map out a way of life in which one would please oneself completely and exclusively.