I long ago became convinced about two major things. They simplify the days that pass so quickly. The first conviction is simply about life itself – that we have only one life and that it is infinitely precious and that we had better make the best of it in both work and play and in our personal relationships and not always be hankering after greener pastures, and sweeter times and better circumstances.
Charles Baudelaire, the French poet, in one of his journals writes that life is a hospital in which each patient believes he will recover if he is moved to another bed. So people imagine a curing of all their ills if only, for instance, they move to a new country – or, indeed,
