Greatness

"We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep -- it's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out of windows or drown themselves or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us, the vast majority, are slowly devoured by some disease or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more."

-- from The Hours (Michael Cunningham)

I'm pleasantly reminded why I love this novel.

I want to become something great, but doesn't everyone? More than anything, I want to make some impact on the world, whether it be through a beautiful child, or a grand idea, or words that last. It's hard to believe that all I have been given lately won't amount to something worthwhile. Then again, it's still hard for me to picture myself doing anything that can be deemed notable by the world's standards.

These aspirations aren't anything out of the ordinary, I suppose.

These formative years of college are flying by. Before I know it, they will be over, and I will be desperate for just one more semester -- to take a deep breath before the deep plunge. But, like other unknown territories I have jumped into, I will swim furiously until I eventually float along, wondering what I feared in the first place.

At least I hope that's the case.

The only thing I hate about a good book is that it leaves me inspired, wanting to write, and soon realizing that I can't find the right words for what I want to say.