I have a lot of sympathy for young people because I realize how

Hear the words of Clyde Tombaugh, the humble farm boy who turned his eyes to the heavens and discovered the distant world of Pluto. He once confessed: “I have a lot of sympathy for young people because I realize how disturbed I was. How would I deal with life in the future? What would I do for a living?” These are not the words of a man clothed in pride for his later triumph, but of one who remembered the turmoil of his youth—the storms of uncertainty, the restless questions that haunt the hearts of the young. In his honesty, he offers a lantern for those who now walk that same shadowed path.

The meaning of this quote lies in its deep sympathy. Tombaugh, who became immortal in the annals of astronomy, remembered that he too was once uncertain and anxious about his place in the world. He did not glide through youth as a prodigy secure in destiny. Instead, he asked the same questions all young people ask: What shall I do? How shall I survive? What is my future? His greatness, then, was not that he never doubted, but that he endured doubt and pressed forward, carrying his curiosity like a flame through the darkness of confusion.

His own story proves this truth. As a young man, Tombaugh lived on a farm in Kansas, where the dust and toil of rural life left little time for dreaming. He longed for study, yet poverty barred him from formal education. Still, with his own hands he built a telescope, grinding the lenses himself, and with it he gazed at the stars. When he sent his drawings of Mars and Jupiter to the Lowell Observatory, they saw not only his skill but his passion. Soon, he was invited to work there, and in 1930 he discovered Pluto, the ninth planet known to his age. What began in youthful disturbance and uncertainty became a life of wonder and achievement.

Consider how many others in history walked the same road. Abraham Lincoln, as a young man, sat by firelight with borrowed books, wondering how he would shape his life. Poor, uncertain, often mocked, he asked himself what he could possibly become. The doubts of youth weighed heavily upon him, yet he did not let them destroy him. Instead, he turned them into fuel for growth, becoming one of the most steadfast leaders the world has known. Like Tombaugh, his greatness was forged in the furnace of uncertainty.

The lesson here is clear: the doubts of youth are not signs of weakness, but the natural birth pangs of destiny. When you ask, What shall I do with my life? know that you walk the same path as the great men and women before you. Sympathy is due to the young, for their hearts are caught between the dreams of childhood and the burdens of adulthood, yet in that tension their future strength is forged. The restless questioning is not an obstacle, but a teacher, shaping resilience, humility, and determination.

Practical action follows: if you are young and troubled, do not despair at your confusion. Write down your questions. Let them sharpen your resolve to learn, to try, to build. Seek not immediate certainty, but step forward with curiosity, as Tombaugh did with his handmade telescope. And if you are older, extend sympathy to those who now stand where you once stood. Encourage them, remind them that uncertainty is a shared human trial, and tell them that even the discoverer of Pluto once trembled at the question of his own future.

So let Tombaugh’s words be remembered as both confession and comfort. The man who found a world in the heavens once feared he would find no place on earth. Yet through perseverance, he turned his youthful doubt into discovery. Let all who hear these words take courage: your confusion is not the end of your story—it may be the very soil from which your greatest achievement shall grow.