Wasting Talent Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 27: OLIVE’s POV Zane's voice drummed across the room, in a deep and controlled manner, the kind of voice that made people shut up and listen whether they wanted to or not. I kept my eyes on my phone, pretending I wasn't hanging on every word. "...success isn't about talent," he was saying. "It's about knowing what you want and taking it. No apologies. No hesitation." My throat went dry. "Some people spend their whole lives waiting for permission to go after what they want. Waiting for someone to tell them they're good enough, strong enough, worthy enough." A pause. "Those people lose."

“Anytime. I read your book at a glance. You are talented. Why do you become an accountant if you enjoy writing?” “Uh, I don’t know. I love counting and being meticulous with my work. Accounting is the right field for me. Writing is just a hobby.” “Have you ever thought about making it serious? Be a professional writer I mean. Have you thought about it?” “No,” I whispered while shaking my head. “Why not?” He raised his eyebrow. “It’s a shame if you waste your talent.” “I have some reasons. In our country, it’s hard to live purely on the writer’s earnings. Besides, I’m not so talented.”

"What did I tell ya? My destiny's been set in stone. Grandma and I aren't fated for the lavish life." Wilbur had encountered people with special talents in the past. Despite the fact that they were not cultivators, their special talents were still quite bizarre and brilliant. Countless people had tried desperately to analyze these talents, and Wilbur had heard by chance before that those with special talents were actually not allowed to make money with their talents. Doing that would result in bad karma or some unpredictable tragedies. Wilbur was a cultivator and a strong believer in controlling one's own destiny. After all, if everything was fated, Wilbur would have never been able to impro

I blushed, shook my head, and cleared my throat. “I mean, I’ve been planning to give you since you solved the assignment. The book is very important, it costs the owner’s life.” “What?” he asked in surprise. He’s too young to know the story of the book. The book isn’t popular because it’s the author’s first book. He was a psychologist and also labelled a psychopath. What he wrote in the book was facts about human nature, how to read people and how to make them respect you at all costs as their boss.

"You think that just because I didn't come from a prominent background, I wouldn't rely on my medical skills to get a full-time position at the hospital. That was so dumb of you. "In this day and age, regardless of how big the population is, real talent remains a true scarcity. As long as someone is truly capable, they will always be able to earn a living and build a life for themselves. Even if I lost my job at Rivershire Hospital, I could easily make a good living elsewhere. "Meanwhile, it's the talentless people with nothing but connections to count on who are screwed the moment the people they count on are brought down. "Do you know why Vera asked to give me the full-time position and al

Zoe: [The candy here still tastes like it did when I was a kid. He replied quickly: [Bring me there to try it next time.] I looked at my phone and smiled, thinking, 'Yeah, next time. Countless next times await me.' Life was long, and taking a few wrong steps was normal. The important thing was to get back on course and look forward. One should let the wrong people and wrong things stay in the past. After all, there were more beautiful landscapes and more worthy people waiting ahead.

He really had mastered the art of swallowing his anger rather than letting out even a single word. Listening to his footsteps fade, I suddenly realized Jared was right. It was people like Knox Ferris—arrogant and overbearing—who really seemed alive. Once upon a time, I had been like that too. But that version of me no longer existed. I slowly raised my hands, staring at my pale, slender fingers in a daze. Ten years ago, these hands had been smooth and full, gripping reins and vaulting over walls. Now, they only bore the marks of holding a pen.

Heat crawled up my neck. “A year of experience for everyone else, but suddenly the rules change for her?” one whispered. “Funny how the ‘exception’ just happens to be Alvara,” another muttered. “I guess hard work doesn’t matter anymore if Clara likes her,” a third added. Isabella ignored the side comments, beaming as if she’d won the lottery. Clara carried on as if nothing unusual had happened. “You will have seven days. The Hawthorne Institute believes true talent reveals itself under pressure, and it does not need months to appear ”