Quotes About Contentment

Any old place I can hang my hat is home sweet home to me.

I think all wishes are the same, really," she continued. "Whether they ask for this, that, or the other, what they are really asking for is happiness.

It was a smile of total reassurance and gave all who saw it a feeling of intense well-being. Not joy, but something akin to a sleepy peace. A sort of not-a-worry-in-the-world sensation.

They want what they don't need, or can't use, or won't ever make them whole.

People who don't know me well wonder that I'd give up my badge for an apron, thinking that flipping burgers is a big step down. If they asked me, which they don't, I would tell them that when a man stumbles onto happiness, he'd be a fool to pass it by. It's as simple as that. Sam's Place makes me happy.

Bobby had a secret. You know what it was? It took nothing to make him happy. That was it. He held happiness in his hand easy as if he'd just, I don't know, plucked a blade of grass form the ground. And all he did his whole short life was offer that happiness to anybody who'd smile at him. That's all he wanted form me. From you. From anybody. A smile.

And what is happiness, Nathan? In my experience, it's only a moment's pause here and there on what is otherwise a long and difficult road. No one can be happy all the time. Better, I think, to wish for her wisdom, a virtue not so fickle.

Closing her eyes, she began to let herself dream. Not sleep dreaming, but dreaming of how her life might be. It was a thing she didn't often do. In her experience, good things came with great difficulty and were too easily snatched away. She'd longo ago learned to accept what she had at any given moment and try to be happy with only that. She could think about the furniture, plan even, but not expect. It was the expectation that was the trap.

There are two kinds of people in the world, Norman. People who have things and people who want the things other people have.

Bobby had a gift and the gift was his simplicity. The world for Bobby Cole was a place he accepted without needing to understand it. Me

what is happiness, Nathan? In my experience, it's only a moment's pause here and there on what is otherwise a long and difficult road. No one can be happy all the time. Better, I think, to wish for her wisdom, a virtue not so fickle.

He held happiness in his hand easy as if he'd just, I don't know, plucked a blade of grass from the ground.

And what is happiness, Nathan? In my experience, it's only a moment's pause here and there on what is otherwise a long and difficult road.

And what is happiness, Nathan? In my experience, it's only a moment's pause here and there on what is otherwise a long and difficult road. No one can be happy all the time. Better, I think, to wish for her wisdom, a virtue not so fickle." "Nf-six," my

To breathe, to eat, to sleep, and to do so fearlessly—how much more did anyone need to be happy? Wealth, Wendell had impressed on her, was not a value the Anishinaabe held. Sharing was the way of The People.

Believe me, Buck, if you have family, you can lose everything and still count yourself a rich man.

I try not to want. I try instead to accept.

Meloux closed his eyes, lifted his face to the sun, breathed deeply. "That is all of life," the old Mide said quietly. "What?" Stephen asked. "Letting go of the questions. Letting go of the fear that there will be no answers." "Will there be answers?" "What we believe we want is like knocking on a closed door. Better to open ourselves to what we have and what we know. The beauty of this moment.

the sky, settling in

There's a place you can get to. It's hard to find and it's easy to fall out of, but there it is, that place. It is the sweetest place you've never been and it's called I Don't Give a Crap. Book yourself a ticket.

When your ambition is so wrought that you're never satisfied, it takes a load of pressure off. Every spot on the ladder is equally disappointing because it is not the rung above. Which means I've perfectly filled my potential; I've reached as high as I'll ever get, the point of not good enough.

You get into a habit of low expectations, which gives you a sort of contentment. You go through life as if through a mist, seeing little farther than your nose and scorning all that only appears wispy and faint. Then a bolt of lightning splits the mist and gives you a glimpse of all you might be missing.

Who is rich? As the scholar Ben Zoma once said, 'He who is content with his lot.

A feast of smooth oblivion.