We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers, wider freeways but narrower viewpoints, we spent more but we have less; we buy more but enjoy less.
We have bigger house and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time, we have more degrees, but less common senses; more medicines but less wellness.
We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values, we talk too much love too seldom and lie too often.
We have learned how to make a living but not a life; we’ve added years to live but not life to years.
We have been all the way to the moon and back, but have troubles crossing the street to meet our new neighbor.
We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space; we’ve done larger things but not better things, we’ve cleaned the air but polluted the soul. We have split the atom but not our prejudice. We write more but learn less, plan more but accomplish less.
We’ve learned to rush but not to wait, we have higher income, but lower morals, more foods, but less appeasement; more acquaintance but fewer friends.
We built more computers to more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication with the one we loves. We have become long on quantity but short on quality.
These are the time of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun. There are more kinds of food but less nutrition.
These are days of two incomes, but more divorce, of fancier houses but broken homes.
These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies and pills that do everything from cheer, to quit, to kill.
It is time when there is much in the show window, but nothing in the stockroom.