Life must be lived and curiosity kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.
Eleanor RooseveltRead
We all create the person we become by our choices as we go through life. In a real sense, by the time we are adults, we are the sum total of the choices we have made.
Interpretation
Our identity is shaped by the choices we make throughout our lives.
Eleanor Roosevelt's quote emphasizes the fundamental role of personal choices in shaping our identities. It suggests that as we navigate through life, every decision contributes to our overall character and existence, ultimately culminating in the person we become as adults.
In practice
During a motivational speech on personal development.
Life must be lived and curiosity kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.
Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.
You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give.
Our children should learn the general framework of their government and then they should know where they come in contact with the government, where it touches their daily lives and where their influence is exerted on the government. It must not be a distant thing, someone else's business, but they must see how every cog in the wheel of a democracy is important and bears its share of responsibility for the smooth running of the entire machine.
It takes courage to love, but pain through love is the purifying fire which those who love generously know.
I believe that anyone can conquer fear by doing the things he fears to do.
The last function of reason is to recognize that there are an infinity of things which surpass it.
Transcendence constitutes selfhood.
The longest journeyIs the journey inwards.Of him who has chosen his destiny, Who has started upon his quest For the source of his being.
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.
Ninety-nine hundredths or, possibly, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousandths of our activity is purely automatic and habitual, from our rising in the morning to our lying down each night.
Will holding a secret in your heart make it any less true? If you never tell, never speak of it, will it become only a dream, less than a dream, a nightmare half-remembered? Oh, if only the gods would be so good. (Catelyn)
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