Our life is a work of art - we know it or not, whether we like it or not. To live it requires the art of living as we must - like any artist, whatever his art - pigs difficult challenges (at least when we say any) from close-range combat, we must choose goals that are (at least when we choose them) well beyond our reach, and standards of excellence so irritating to their stubborn be (at least as we have seen until now) well beyond what we have been able to do that or we would have the capacity to do. We have groped the impossible. And we can only hope - without being able to rely on reliable forecasts and much less certain - of succeed sooner or later, with a long and excruciating effort, to match those standards and achieve those goals, thereby demonstrating to the challenge. The uncertainty is the natural habitat of human life, although the hope of escaping it is the engine of human activities. Escape to the uncertainty is a key ingredient, or at least the tacit assumption of any composite image of happiness. That is why happiness "authentic, appropriate and complete" appears to remain at a constant distance from us as a horizon, as all horizons, runs every time we try to approach it. [Z. Bauman]
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