He or she who becomes a slave of habit, repeating every day the same itineraries, who does not change brand, the color of clothes, who does not speak to those who do not know.
He or she who shuns passion, who prefers black on white, dotting the "i" rather than a set of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer, that turn a yawn into a smile, that make the heart beat in front of mistakes and feelings.
He or she who does not overthrow the table when is unhappy at work, who does not risk certainty for uncertainty to follow a dream, who would not allow, at least once in their lives to run away from sensible advice.
He or she who does not travel, who does not read, does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself.
Dies slowly he who destroys self-esteem, who refuses to be helped, who spends his days complaining of his bad luck or the incessant rain.
Dies slowly he who abandons a project before starting it, who does not ask questions on subjects he does not know, who does not answer when asked about something he knows.
We avoid death in small doses, reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple act of breathing. Only a burning patience will lead to attainment of a splendid happiness.
(Pablo Neruda)
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