Quotes About Happiness

Ah, my dear; and I shall never be happy unless I can open the windows!

To the French, [le plaisir] is a part of the general fearless and joyful contact with life.

she likes being good, and I like being happy.

Once—twice—you gave me the chance to escape from my life, and I refused it: refused it because I was a coward. Afterward I saw my mistake—I saw I could never be happy with what had contented me before. But it was too late: you had judged me—I understood. It was too late for happiness—but not too late to be helped by the thought of what I had missed. That is all I have lived on—don't take it from me now!

Courage - that's the secret! If only people who are in love weren't always so afraid of risking their happiness by looking it in the eyes.

Every drop of blood in Lily's veins invited her to happiness.

Poor May! he said. Poor? Why poor? she echoed with a strained laugh. Because I shall never be able to open a window without worrying you, he rejoined, laughing also. For a moment she was silent; then she said very low, her head bowed over her work: I shall never worry if you're happy. Ah, my dear; and I shall never be happy unless I can open the windows! In THIS weather? she remonstrated; and with a sigh he buried his head in his book.

Even now, however, she was not always happy. She had everything she wanted, but she still felt, at times, that there were other things she might want if she knew about them.

But I am born happy every morning

I'm improvident: I live in the moment when I'm happy

And how can anyone give you happiness who hasn't got it himself?

The conventionality of the tribe is far more important than the happiness of the individual. In fact, the happiness of the individual ideally should rest in perpetrating the conventionality of the tribe.

In the joy of her gratified desires she wanted to make everybody about her happy. If only everyone would do as she wished she would never be unreasonable. She much preferred to see smiling faces about her, and her dread of the reproachful and dissatisfied countenance gave the measure of what she would do to avoid it.

Well—watching the contortions of the damned is supposed to be a favourite sport of the angels; but I believe even they don't think people happier in hell.

That was all; but all their intercourse had been made up of just such inarticulate flashes, when they seemed to come suddenly upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods . .

Ali znate, nas dve smo toliko razli?ite: ona voli da bude dobra, a ja volim da budem sre?na.

Fericirea, la unele firi e ca o alunecare de teren pe munte.

Some human happiness is a landlocked lake; but the Grancys' was an open sea, stretching a buoyant and inimitable surface to the voyaging interests of life. There was room to spare on those waters for all our separate ventures; and always, beyond the sunset, a mirage of the fortunate isles toward which our prows were bent.

decorate one's inner house so richly that one is content there, glad to welcome anyone who wants to come and stay, but happy all the same when one is inevitably alone

Abstract liberty, like other mere abstractions, is not to be found. Liberty inheres in some sensible object; and every nation has formed to itself some favorite point, which by way of eminence becomes the criterion of their happiness.

The great has terror for its basis... the beautiful is founded on mere positive pleasure...

O why doe wretched men so much desire, To draw their dayes vnto the vtmost date, And doe not rather wish them soone expire, Knowing the miserie of their estate, And thousand perills which them still awate, Tossing them like a boate amid the mayne, That euery houre they knocke at deathes gate? And he that happie seemes and least in payne, Yet is as nigh his end, as he that most doth playne.

It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill, That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore: For some, that hath abundance at his will, Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store

my delight is all in ioyfulnesse . . .