Quote by Colbie Caillat

No I did not call in sick to work todayNo I'm not out hanging with my friendsThere's no more wasting timeOn what I think I'm supposed to doMy clock is standing still soI can have my dream life lifeWith the ones I lovePlaying all day longLaying back by the water sideWith nowhere to goAnd the music onI'm working hard for my dream lifeTo be my real lifeAnd that can't be wrongAll I have is this lifeSo I'm making it what I want


No I did not call in sick to work todayNo I'm not out hangin

Summary

This quote expresses a refusal to conform to societal expectations and a desire to prioritize personal happiness and fulfillment. The individual rejects the idea of wasting time on obligations and commitments that they don't truly want or believe in. Instead, they choose to focus on living their dream life, surrounded by loved ones, engaged in activities they enjoy, and embracing a sense of freedom and leisure. They emphasize that they are willing to work hard to make their dream life a reality, asserting that prioritizing personal happiness is not a wrong or selfish choice.

By Colbie Caillat
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The chief mate of the Pequod was Starbuck, a native of Nantucket, and a Quaker by descent. He was a long, earnest man, and though born on an icy coast, seemed well adapted to endure hot latitudes, his flesh being hard as twice-baked biscuit. Transported to the Indies, his live blood would not spoil like bottled ale. He must have been born in some time of general drought and famine, or upon one of those fast days for which his state is famous. Only some thirty arid summers had he seen; those summers had dried up all his physical superfluousness. But this, his thinness, so to speak, seemed no more the token of wasting anxieties and cares, than it seemed the indication of any bodily blight. It was merely the condensation of the man. He was by no means ill-looking; quite the contrary. His pure tight skin was an excellent fit; and closely wrapped up in it, and embalmed with inner health and strength, like a revivified Egyptian, this Starbuck seemed prepared to endure for long ages to come, and to endure always, as now; for be it Polar snow or torrid sun, like a patent chronometer, his interior vitality was warranted to do well in all climates. Looking into his eyes, you seemed to see there the yet lingering images of those thousand-fold perils he had calmly confronted through life. A staid, steadfast man, whose life for the most part was a telling pantomime of action, and not a tame chapter of sounds. Yet, for all his hardy sobriety and fortitude, there were certain qualities in him which at times affected, and in some cases seemed well nigh to overbalance all the rest. Uncommonly conscientious for a seaman, and endued with a deep natural reverence, the wild watery loneliness of his life did therefore strongly incline him to superstition; but to that sort of superstition, which in some organizations seems rather to spring, somehow, from intelligence than from ignorance. Outward portents and inward presentiments were his.

Herman Melville, Moby Dick