
During college, while visiting a second-hand bookshop on the north side of Chicago, my future-wife picked up a tattered red cloth-covered book that had caught her eye — the Journal Intime of little-known nineteenth-century Swiss writer Henri-Frédéric Amiel. In it we would later find much wisdom, but above all, the following:
“We receive everything, both life and happiness; but the manner in which we receive, this is what is still…


