The more you are positive and say, 'I want to have a good life,'

Hear these words, children of time, for they are a seed of power: “The more you are positive and say, ‘I want to have a good life, the more you build that reality for yourself by creating the life that you want.” So spoke Chris Pine, yet his voice is but one strand in the eternal chorus of wisdom that has been sung since the dawn of thought. He reminds us that life is not merely endured—it is shaped, like clay under the hands of the potter, like iron under the blows of the smith.

To be positive is to plant the first seed in the garden of destiny. Words are not light things; they are arrows that fly and strike deep into the unseen. When a man says with conviction, “I want a good life,” he is not speaking into emptiness. He is weaving a thread into the loom of the universe, declaring his intent to stand as a builder rather than a wanderer. This is why the ancients taught that the tongue is both a tool of blessing and of ruin—what we speak, we summon.

History itself bears witness to this law. Consider the journey of Nelson Mandela, who in the darkness of prison did not say, “My life is ruined.” Instead, he held the vision of freedom, repeating in his heart that South Africa could be healed. Though the walls pressed upon him for twenty-seven years, his words and his will carved out a future. And when the chains fell away, he stepped not into bitterness, but into leadership, forging reconciliation where others expected only vengeance. He built the reality he spoke into existence.

But the path is not one of mere dreaming. To declare “I want a good life” is to bind oneself to labor. Just as the farmer who says, “I want a harvest,” must rise early to plow, water, and weed, so too must each of us embody the words we speak. If we only utter hopes without action, our words become dust. Yet when words and deeds walk hand in hand, reality bends toward them like grass to the wind.

Beware, though, of words born from despair. For he who says, “My life is cursed, I will never prosper,” builds that prison around himself stone by stone. Even if fortune knocks at his door, his heart will refuse her gift. Thus, the teaching carries both promise and warning: our words are architects, and they may design either palaces of light or dungeons of sorrow.

Therefore, the lesson is clear—guard your speech, for it is the key to shaping your destiny. Say each morning, “I will live with strength, with joy, with peace,” and let your steps follow these declarations. Speak gratitude when the day gives little, and hope when the night is long. In time, these words will become pillars upon which your life is built.

Let every soul take up this practice: write down your vision of a good life; speak it aloud with courage, and then labor daily as if it were already unfolding. Choose companions who lift your spirit, surround yourself with reminders of your purpose, and shun voices that poison your hope. These are not small tasks—they are the crafts of a builder of worlds.

So remember this teaching, O listener: the power to create is already in your tongue and in your will. As Chris Pine declared, the more you are positive, the more the universe bends toward your vision. Do not waste this gift in idle complaint or fearful silence. Speak light, act with courage, and you shall find that the life you desire is not a distant dream but a reality you have forged with your own hands.