Don’t think for a moment that I wrote this, because I didn’t, and I couldn’t. Some Reverend Moorehead did.
We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers;
wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints;
we spend more, but have less;
we buy more, but enjoy it less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time;
we have more degrees, but less sense;
more knowledge, but less judgment;
more experts, but less solutions;
more medicine, but less health.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom and hate too often.
We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life;
we’ve added years to life, not life to years.
We’ve been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet our neighbor.
We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space;
we’ve done larger things, but not better things;
we’ve split the atom, but not our prejudice.
We have higher incomes, but lower morale;
we’ve become long on quantity, but short on quality.
These are the times of tall me, and short character;
steep profits, and shallow relationships.
These are the times of world peace, but domestic violence;
more leisure, but less fun;
more kinds of food, but less nutrition.
These are the days of two incomes, but more divorce;
of fancier houses, but broken homes.
It is a time when there is so much in the showroom window
and nothing in the stockroom.