We have taller buildings but shorter tempers;
wider freeways but narrower viewpoints.
We spend more but have less,
buy more but enjoy it less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families,
more conveniences but less time.
We have more degrees but less common sense,
more knowledge but less judgment.
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 little.
We have multiplied our possessions but reduced our values.
We talk too much,
love too seldom
and lie too often.
We've learned how to make a living but not a life.
We've been all the way to the moon and back
but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.
We've conquered outer space but not inner space.
We've cleaned up the air but polluted the soul,
split the atom but not our prejudice.
We've learned to rush but not to wait.
We have higher incomes but lower morals,
more food but less appeasement,
more acquaintances but fewer friends.
We build more computers to hold more information,
to produce more copies than ever,
but have less communication.
These are the times of tall men and short character,
steep profits and shallow relationships,
two incomes but more divorce,
fancier houses but broken homes.
These are days of disposable diapers,
overweight bodies and
pills that do everything from cheer to quiet to kill.
There is much in the show window
and nothing in the stockroom.