“In the spring of 1938，I was working out from Versailles，Missouri.The schools were poor，the roads bad；I was so lonely and discouraged that at one time I even considered suicide.It seemed that success was impossible.I had nothing to live for.I dreaded getting up each morning and facing life.I was afraid of everything：afraid I could not meet the car payments；afraid I could not pay my room rent；afraid I would not have enough to eat.I was afraid my health was failing and I had no money for a doctor.All that kept me from suicide were the thoughts that my sister would be deeply grieved，and that I did not have enough money to pay my funeral expenses.
“Then one day I read an article that lifted me out of my despondence and gave me the courage to go on living.I shall never cease to be grateful for one inspiring sentence in that article.It said：‘Every day is a new life to a wise man.’
I typed that sentence out and pasted it on the windshield of my car，where I saw it every minute I was driving.I found it wasn’t so hard to live only one day at a time.I learned to forget the yesterdays and to not-think of the tomorrows.Each morning I said to myself：‘today is a new life.’
“I have succeeded in overcoming my fear of loneliness，my fear of want.I am happy and fairly successful now and have a lot of enthusiasm and love for life.I know now that I shall never again be afraid，regardless of what life hands me.I know now that I don’t have to fear the future.I know now that I can live one day at a time—and that ‘Every day is a new life to a wise man.’”
Who do you suppose wrote this verse：Happy the man，and happy he alone，He，who can call to-day his own：
He who，secure within，can say：
“To-morrow，do thy worst，for I have liv’d to-day.”
Those words sound modern，don’t they？Yet they were written thirty years before Christ was born，by the Roman poet Horace.
One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living.We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon—instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.
Why are we such fools—such tragic fools？
“How strange it is，our little procession of life！”wrote Stephen Leacock.“The child says：‘When I am a big boy.’But what is that？The big boy says：‘When I grow up.’And then，grown up，he says：‘When I get married.’But to be married，what is that after all？
The thought changes to ‘When I’m able to retire.’And then，when retirement comes，he looks back over the landscape traversed；a cold wind seems to sweep over it；somehow he has missed it all，and it is gone.Life，we learn too late，is in the living，in the tissue of every day and hour.”
The late Edward S.Evans of Detroit almost killed himself with worry before he learned that life “is in the living，in the tissue of every day and hour.”Brought up in poverty，Edward Evans made his first money by selling newspapers，then worked as a grocer’s clerk.Later，with seven people dependent upon him for bread and butter，he got a job as an assistant librarian.Small as the pay was，he was afraid to quit.Eight years passed before he could summon up the courage to start out on his own.But once he started，he built up an original investment of fifty-five borrowed dollars into a business of his own that made him twenty thousand dollars a year.Then came a frost，a killing frost.He endorsed a big note for a friend—and the friend went bankrupt.Quickly on top of that disaster came another：the bank in which he had all his money collapsed.He not only lost every cent he had，but was plunged into debt for sixteen thousand dollars.His nerves couldn’t take it.“I couldn’t sleep or eat，”he told me.“I became strangely ill.Worry and nothing but worry，”he said，“brought on this illness.One day as I was walking down the street，I fainted and fell on the sidewalk.I was no longer able to walk.I was put to bed and my body broke out in boils.These boils turned inward until just lying in bed was agony.I grew weaker every day.Finally my doctor told me that I had only two more weeks to live.I was shocked.I drew up my will，and then lay back in bed to await my end.No use now to struggle or worry.I gave up，relaxed，and went to sleep.I hadn’t slept two hours in succession for weeks；but now with my earthly problems drawing to an end，I slept like a baby.Myexhausting weariness began to disappear.My appetite returned.I gained weight.
“A few weeks later，I was able to walk with crutches.Six weeks later，I was able to go back to work.I had been making twenty thousand dollars a year；but I was glad now to get a job for thirty dollars a week.I got a job selling blocks to put behind the wheels of automobiles when they are shipped by freight.I had learned my lesson now.No more worry for me—no more regret about what had happened in the past—no more dread of the future.I concentrated all my time，energy，and enthusiasm into selling those blocks.”
Edward S.Evans shot up fast now.In a few years，he was president of the company.His company—the Evans Product Company—has been listed on the New York Stock Exchange for years.When Edward S.Evans died in 1945，he was one of the most progressive business men in the United States.If you ever fly over Greenland，you may land on Evans Field—a flying field named in his honour.Here is the point of the story：Edward S.Evans would never have had the thrill of achieving these victories in business and in living if he hadn’t seen the folly of worrying—if he hadn’t learned to live in day-tight compartments.
Five hundred years before Christ was born，the Greek philosopher Heraclitus told his students that “everything changes except the law of change”.He said：“You cannot step in the same river twice.”The river changes every second；and so does the man who stepped in it.Life is a ceaseless change.The only certainty is today.The old Romans had a word for it.In fact，they had two words for it.Carpe diem.“Enjoy the day.”Or，“Seize the day.”Yes，seize the day，and make the most of it.