Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential.

I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began

to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me.

Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to

succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged.

I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized, and I was still alive, and

I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea.

And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable.

It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that

you might as well not have lived at all -- in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations.

Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way.

I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also

found out that I had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you

are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive.

You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both

have been tested by adversity.

Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth

more than any qualification I ever earned.

So given a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing

that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement.

Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of

my age and older who confuse the two.

Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to

know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.