The need to express oneself in writing springs from a mal-adjustment to life, or from an inner conflict which the adolescent (or the grown man) cannot resolve in action. Those to whom action comes as easily as breathing rarely feel the need to break loose from the real, to rise above, and describe it... I do not mean that it is enough to be maladjusted to become a great writer, but writing is, for some, a method of resolving a conflict, provided they have the necessary talent.
The New Year is a beautiful bouquet of newer unfolding opportunities to fulfill unfinished commitments with renewed vigour of heart and move-up on an accelerating speed to reach to a new milestone of a promising career and enriching life's journey.
The Night has a thousand eyes,
The obscure only exists that it may cease to exist. In it lies the opportunity of all victory and all progress. Whether it call itself fatality, death, night, or matter, it is the pedestal of life, of light, of liberty and the spirit. For it represents resistance -- that is to say, the fulcrum of all activity, the occasion for its development and its triumph.
The only happy talkers are dandies who extract pleasure from the very perishability of their material and who would not be able to tolerate the isolation of all other forms of composition; for most good talkers, when they have run down, are miserable; they know that they have betrayed themselves, that they have taken material which should have a life of its own, to dispense it in noises upon the air.
The only life that is ever worthy of emulation/celebration is a life that is being lived or that was lived for others i.e. a charitable/selfless/loveful/impactful life. Now, have you been living for others? I've been living & I'm still living for others . That's why, I've been & I'm still motivating/inspiring you/the world/the posterity ahead.