Quotes About Contentment

Oh the joy of an idée fixe! The contentment of a life taken up some ideal, any ideal! A gentle trap to catch the infinite, like the sun in a piece of mirror in a child's hand.

The change in the girl's face was more subtle, almost invisible; it was not joy, there was no sparkle, but something like a serene contentment. It was as though she had ripened, as though there were a growing plenitude in her, never there before.

I dream that I'm beautiful. Not exactly beautiful, but inconspicuous. That's what it means to be beautiful, to be like everyone else. My head feels light. My eyes are on the front of my face. I have a nose, rather than nostrils. I have human skin, thin human skin. I walk down the street and no one notices me. Now that's happiness—no one noticing me. It's a happy dream.

Happy countries are all alike; each unhappy country is unhappy in its own way, as has been written.

being alone is better

I think it's so foolish for people to want to be happy. Happy is so momentary--you're happy for an instant and then you start thinking again. Interest is the most important thing in life; happiness is temporary, but interest is continuous.

I do not like the idea of happyness — it is too momentary — I would say that I was always busy and interested in something — interest has more meaning to me than the idea of happyness.

My pleasant disposition likes the world with nobody in it. (Life, March 1, 1968)

Living out here has just meant happiness. Sometimes I think I'm half-mad with love for this place.

I do not like the idea of happiness -- it is too momentary.

We are closer to the ants than to butterflies. Very few people can endure much leisure.

The most wonderful, beautiful things in life are the simple things which we have all forgotten.

This day I choose to spend in perfect peace.

God alone is sufficient.8

How simple it is to see that we can only be happy now, and there will never be a time when it is not now.

Perpetually shrouded in a dense, clammy fog, Cardington was a depressing place, and the only really contented mortal there that chill November was the resident observer, who used to ascend to 2000 feet every morning in a balloon, and spend the day sitting happily with a book in the autumn sunshine.

Does any woman ever count the grains of her harvest and say: Good enough? Or does one always think of what more one might have laid in, had the labor been harder, the ambition more vast, the choices more sage?

Is it ever thus, at the end of things? Does any woman ever count the grains of her harvest and say: Good enough? Or does one always think of what more one might have laid in, had the labor been harder, the ambition more vast, the choices more sage?

I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have it all to myself, than to be crowded on a velvet cushion.

The joyfulness of a man prolongeth his days.

The learned is happy, nature to explore, the fool is happy, that he knows no more.

Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me.

There can be no peace of mind in love, since the advantage one has secured is never anything by a fresh starting-point for further desires.

Cheerfulness keeps up a kind of daylight in the mind, filling it with a steady and perpetual serenity.