It'll be a hard day.

 

I was surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. 

 

Washington's body organized the space around it, as a dancer's arms or legs seem to stretch beyond the tips of the fingers or toes. When he entered a room or a crowd, he was noticed. 

 

This time, like all times, is a very good one, if we but know what to do with it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It has been my experience that one cannot, in any shape or form, depend on human relations for any lasting reward. It is only work that truly satisfies. 

Happiness is not to be achieved at the command of emotional whims. Happiness is not the satisfaction of whatever irrational wishes you might blindly attempt to indulge. Happiness is a state of non-contradictory joy—a joy without penalty or guilt, a joy that does not clash with any of your values and does not work for your own destruction, not the joy of escaping from your mind, but of using your mind’s fullest power, not the joy of faking reality, but of achieving values that are real, not the joy of a drunkard, but of a producer. Happiness is possible only to a rational man, the man who desires nothing but rational goals, seeks nothing but rational values and finds his joy in nothing but rational actions. 

Just as I support my life, neither by robbery nor alms, but by my own effort, so I do not seek to derive my happiness from the injury or the favor of others, but earn it by my own achievement.

 

 

Many years ago there lived a well-loved Jewish sage named Rabbi Zusya. Rabbi Zusya was renowned throughout the world for his gifted insights as a scholar, teacher, and healer.

When the time came for Rabbi Zusya to leave this world, his students gathered at his bedside. During a tender moment the Rabbi began to weep.

“Why do you cry, Rabbi?” asked one of the disciples. “If anyone is assured a place in Heaven, it is you. You are one of the greatest and most revered spiritual teachers in the world!”

Rabbi Zusya turned his head softly toward the one who spoke, and looked him in the eye. His gaze was piercing, as one who can see through this world to another. “I will tell you why I weep, my dear one,” the sage replied. “If, when I approach the gates of Heaven, the angel who meets me asks, ‘Why were you not a Moses?’ I shall answer with conviction, ‘Because I was not born to be a Moses.’
“And if the angel challenges me, ‘But neither did you perform the feats that Elijah did,’ I shall firmly respond, ‘My mission was not the same one that Elijah was sent to accomplish.’

“But there is one question that I fear being unable to answer: ‘Why were you not a Rabbi Zusya?’”