I live in a country where entire sections of bookstores are dedicated to advice or self-improvement. Hell, in the late 90s we had a Billboard hit that was just an inspirational high-school graduation speech over a drum beat.
So there is nothing I can say here that hasn't already been said. But, the winter wind howling outside my windows reminds me of one of my favorite poems, so I'll leave you with that.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
First published in New Hampshire in 1923
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it's queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Thanks for the opportunity,