I had a sobering thought this evening. For some
unaccountable reason I suddenly imagined myself being interviewed for a radio
or TV show, and being asked the question: ‘If you were asked to name one
quality for which you would like to be remembered after you’re dead, what would
it be?’
I couldn’t think of one. I’ve dabbled with virtuosity a few times here and there, but nothing was ever consistent enough to be counted a quality. I suppose it’s why I have no honours or medals. (Then again, it doesn’t bother me that I have no honours or medals because I don’t value such things.)
But then something else struck me: for all the pleasurable moments life has granted me, and notwithstanding the fact that I’ve been cheerful often enough, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been happy. Maybe that’s because I don’t know what happiness is; or could the fact that I don’t know what happiness is be proof of the point?
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