No, I'm happy to go on living the life I've chosen. I'm a

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the quiet yet resolute words of Antonio Tabucchi: “No, I’m happy to go on living the life I’ve chosen. I’m a university teacher and I like my job.” In these words there is no cry for glory, no thirst for riches, no hunger for dominion. Instead, there is the still power of contentment, the noble dignity of one who has chosen his path with care and found joy in its unfolding. The world often exalts the conqueror and the magnate, but here we find greatness in the humble devotion of a teacher, a servant of truth and a guardian of minds.

The origin of this thought lies in Tabucchi’s own life, a man who was not only a writer of haunting and poetic prose, but also a professor who stood faithfully before his students. He could have sought only fame through his novels or pursued the acclaim of literary circles, yet he chose the lecture hall, the classroom, the daily rhythm of instruction. This was no accident—it was a declaration that meaning does not lie solely in what dazzles the masses, but in what nourishes souls, quietly and steadily, one student at a time.

The life one chooses is not always the life of spectacle, but the life of integrity. Tabucchi reminds us that to choose a vocation that aligns with one’s spirit, and then to love it, is to live fully. A university teacher shapes generations yet unborn, equipping them with tools of thought that ripple far beyond what can be measured. A writer’s book may pass into the hands of thousands, but a teacher’s influence plants itself in the living hearts of students, who go forth and change the world in ways invisible yet enduring.

History testifies to this truth. Socrates, who never wrote a single book, chose to remain in the marketplace, speaking, questioning, teaching. His students carried his thought into the ages—Plato, Aristotle, and all the philosophers who came after. The world remembers their names, but their roots sink into the quiet devotion of a man who was content to be a teacher. So too did Antonio Tabucchi, in his own way, stand as a link in this ancient chain of those who know the power of teaching as both calling and destiny.

The deeper meaning of his words lies also in their refusal of discontent. He says, “I’m happy to go on living the life I’ve chosen.” This is the mark of wisdom. How many wander in search of better lives, envious of others, restless in their pursuit of what they do not have? Yet happiness is not found in ceaseless grasping—it is found in embracing with gratitude the work that is already at hand, the path that has already been chosen. To love what one does is to be rich in spirit, no matter how humble the task.

The lesson for us is clear: do not measure your life by the scales of wealth or applause, but by the truth of your own heart. If your chosen work fills you with purpose, then you have already found what kings and merchants spend their lives pursuing. To be a teacher—whether in a university or in daily life—is to embody one of humanity’s highest callings: the passing on of knowledge, the lighting of lamps, the shaping of futures.

Practical wisdom follows: ask yourself not what brings the loudest recognition, but what brings quiet joy. Honor your chosen path if it aligns with your spirit. If you teach, teach with love; if you create, create with honesty; if you serve, serve with devotion. And when the world tempts you with dissatisfaction, remember Tabucchi’s words—be content with the life you have chosen. For in such contentment lies peace, strength, and the truest wealth.

Thus, O children of tomorrow, remember the example of Antonio Tabucchi. Happiness is not always in seeking new roads, but in walking faithfully upon the road you have chosen. Live with contentment, honor your work, and know that in doing so, you stand among the timeless company of those whose quiet dedication has shaped the destiny of the world.