I didn’t know what I was supposed to do until I was 45. As it turned out, I had to do some other things first. Now I see I was never not doing what I was supposed to do.
The planet is vastly more beautiful than it is useful. Perversely, it’s utilitarians who predominate. They’re governed by one article of faith: If it works, it’s truth.
Can a man stop working? Retire? Not if his work expresses the innermost region of his heart. There are musicians, of course. And the man who died while walking his cow to market.
Our real work is what we do for the joy of doing it.
It’s not what we do that matters most; it’s how we do it. The human being is primary; the human doing is secondary.