There's this old woman who goes by our quiet streets every day with her basketful of kakanin. She calls out in the softest voice, and you have to really listen hard to hear her. Day in and day out, she weaves through the neighborhood, always smiling. Always pleasant. By the time she passes by our house, her basket is almost always empty.
There's this other old woman who goes by the office and who goes about begging. Make that demanding. She is constantly complaining, moaning about how she has no family, carping about every ache and pain. And when somebody gives her something, she doesn't even say thank you. She is dour. And she almost ends up with nothing, except with an even darker disposition.
In life, as in everything else, it's all a matter of attitude. And attitude is always a matter of choice.