Real happiness is not vulnerable, because it does not depend on circumstances.
I must learn to love the fool in me—the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of my human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my Fool.
I live in the rhythm of ordinary things. I do the dishes, cook, iron clothes. I love that because there isn’t a single thing on my mind when I do this stuff. It’s only after I have become completely empty that I am capable of creating something.
Why do you put your self esteem in the hands of complete strangers?
If life were merely a habit, I should commit suicide; but even now, more or less desperate, I cannot but think, ‘Something wonderful may happen.’ It is not optimism, it is a rejection of self-pity (I hope) which leaves a loophole for life… I merely choose to remain living out of respect for possibility. And possibility is the great good.