Life does not tell stories. People do.

Life provides raw materials. Raw enough for us to look back and construct at least two versions of our own biography—its past, its present, and its future: one a dungeon, the other a palace.

This is the greatest kindness the Master of Life has given us: He has placed His own pen in our hands, so that we may enjoy the dignity of a life constructed by our own design.

Likutei Sichot, vol. 14, pg. 162; Maamar Ki Tisa 5716.