At its core, much of commitment is about taking control of our time. Death controls the length of our days. But we control the depth of our days. Commitment is about choosing to pursue—in the face of our limited length—boundless depth.

The liberatory spirit of our age has helped us tear down bad institutions, but it hasn’t helped build up new ones. It has helped avoid some tragedies, but it hasn’t built global peace. It has helped diagnose the maladies of our time, but it hasn’t figured out a cure.

Why is commitment necessary to change? Because change happens slow, not fast. Everything that matters takes time—there are no shortcuts.

Caught between liberation and dedication, we are glad to not be rigid, and yet we pine for a more solid life amid the dizzying flow.

from the bad—for a morality of indifference. It’s a culture that educates for advancement—résumé building and the ladder of success—over attachment: to crafts, causes, and communities of competence.

But this Culture of Open Options is not a neutral holding pattern. It’s a culture that arranges our economy against loyalty to particulars: particular neighborhoods, particular people, particular missions. It’s a culture that substitutes a morality of honor—guiding people toward the good and away

First, we have a fear of regret: we worry that if we commit to something, we will later regret having not committed to something else. Second, we have a fear of association: we think that if we commit to something, we will be vulnerable to the chaos that that commitment brings to our identity, our reputation, and our sense of control. Third, we

I wrote this book because I believe whether we resolve this tension—whether more people click out of Infinite Browsing Mode and join up with the Counterculture of Commitment—matters. The stakes are high. On a personal level, they’re high because browsing forever can lead to great despair, while dedication can lead to great joy. But the stakes are

Thomas Merton