I came across this book as I was visiting blogs that I used to follow a long time ago.
As I read through the stuff, I couldn’t help noticing that I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t feel inspired or wowed or even impressed. I was only glad that they achieved whatever they wanted. Good for them!
I’ve observed that with every passing day, the stream of my emotions runs shallower and thinner. Perhaps it will dry up completely one day. Is age the culprit? Or is it just cynicism on my part about life in general? Perhaps I’m contented with where I am today (I have never been ambitious anyway)? Perhaps I’ve grown wiser and more used to all the curveballs life throws at me?
I don’t know the answer. Most of the time, I’m blissfully OK. But once in a way, I read about all this passion and stuff, and I wonder — do I know what I’m missing, or do I even care? Each person’s life takes a different path, and I have no complaints about the one I’m traversing. Is it giving up on life, or yielding gracefully?
Well, obviously there are no right answers. To be very honest, I’d rather be right here right now, where most of my questions about my life have been answered.
I guess I’d rather be full and foolish than hungry and foolish! đ
Thought Raker 
Anitha, you’ve found happiness. Lead the rest of us!
Shruthi, to quote Antonio in The Merchant of Venice —
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;
Ironically, the above passage is all about sorrow! đ
The entire thing is:
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff ’tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself
I love this passage; it’s something that’s lingered on and feels so apt many times.
It is truly a beautiful passage!