twenty-seven years and one million words
Driving in an unfamiliar area, I was shocked to see a terribly-uneven railroad crossing immediately before us. Rather than slowing as a driver would do, I reacted like a cyclist: I pulled up on the steering wheel to get my butt of the seat. The bump was so bad that the wiper lever jostled enough to turn on the wipers. My passengers were .. unimpressed with my cycling.
Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. The ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account.
—John Gardner