This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.
George Bernard Shaw (1856–1950)
Irish playwright and critic
Irish playwright and critic
Road Passages #1
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