From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life

by Arthur C. Brooks

and I wake to remember that my childhood aspirations are now only phantasms.

And whether we are famous or not, almost nothing feels worse than becoming irrelevant, or even useless, to others who once held us in esteem.

Remember, every change of circumstances is a chance to learn, grow, and create value.

Pride is sneaky: it hides inside good things. Saint Augustine astutely observed that “every other kind of sin has to do with the commission of evil deeds, whereas pride lurks even in good works in order to destroy them.”

“Solitude expresses the glory of being alone, whereas loneliness expresses the pain of feeling alone.”

the kind of people who don’t know how to manage social interactions outside of work get lonelier when they retire.

Faith forces me into the cosmos, to consider the source of truth, the origin of life, and the good of others. This focus brings refreshment and relief.

Discussions of religion are fraught with mistrust, because it often feels like someone is “trying to sell you a Buick”—to proselytize instead of giving questions and ideas fair and open treatment.

if you are grateful for your life . . . then you have to be grateful for all of it. You can’t pick and choose what you’re grateful for.”

When you are honest and humble about your weaknesses, you will be more comfortable in your own skin. When you use your weaknesses to connect with others, love in your life will grow. And finally—finally—you will be able to relax without worrying about being exposed as less than people think you are. To share your weakness without caring what others think is a kind of superpower.

Hedonia is about feeling good; eudaimonia is about living a purpose-filled life. In truth, we need both. Hedonia without eudaimonia devolves into empty pleasure; eudaimonia without hedonia can become dry.

Perhaps you don’t love your work, especially if you are past your prime and tormented. Perhaps it is like a tense marriage. Still, quitting feels like death or divorce, and before you do it, it is like standing at the edge of a cliff. You’re letting go of what you have, what you’ve built, a professional life that answers the question “Who am I?” It is a professional death with a rebirth that is uncertain. You are looking out over a precipice, unsure whether what awaits will bring net pleasure or pain—or, most likely, both. But you know what you have to do. Don’t think, dude. Just jump.