twenty-eight years and a million words
I'm writing these journal entries after the fact for reasons that will become obvious. This day was Oka-san's 60th birthday. All of the grandchildren were in attendance, and it was a fine time. I ate until I hurt. Little did I know what I was in for.
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