One hopeless evening, living alone, far away from home, and pressed by poverty, he went to the bathroom, tied his belt to a high hook, and wrapped its free side around his neck. He was barely 21. The belt tore apart under his weight. He fell to the ground. He lied there, right where he had fallen, and broke into bitter tears. Then he found his way to his instrument, pulled himself together, cried his heart out, and never looked back. He went on to live one of the longest and most fulfilled lives one could have ever wished for.
His name was Arthur Rubinstein (1887-1982).
"Let me say only that in this chaos of thoughts I discovered the secret of happiness and I still cherish it: Love life for better or for worse, without conditions." (My Young Years, 1973)
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