Quotes About Contentment

You entertain people who are satisfied. Hungry people can't be entertained - or people who are afraid. You can't entertain a man who has no food.

I don't think happiness comes with money, but if you are hungry, you can't be as happy as if you aren't hungry.

I enjoy playing Mr. Darcy, but I'm not hungry to play Mark Darcy again.

If I was hungry for two rotis, I ate only one.

do not turn anything Into something longed for, For then it's dreadful to lose.

Vigilant and absorbed in meditation One attains abundant happiness.

Victory gives birth to hate; The defeated sleep in anguish. Giving up both victory and defeat, Those who have attained peace sleep happily.

Without longing or dislike, No bonds exist.

Morir es siempre problemático, es triste. Siempre es triste. Pero hay maneras de morir contento. Y ante todo, sin hacerle pagar a los otros. Las personas que mueren haciéndole pagar a los otros son terribles.

She'd always been one of those girls who wanted what anyone else had, even if she didn't want it.

All the stuff I don't like about myself has been pushed to the back of my brain. Maybe that is what I like best about him, the way he makes me. Not makes me feel, just makes me. I am fun. I am playful. I am game. I feel naturally happy and entirely satisfied.

I like to think I am confident and secure and mature enough to know Nick loves me without him constantly proving it. I don't need pathetic dancing monkey scenarios to repeat to my friends, I am content with letting him be himself. I don't know why women find that so hard.

All of a sudden you see reading in bed and waffles on Sunday and laughing at nothing and his mouth on yours. And it's so far beyond fine that you know you can never go back to fine.

You have the same rhythm. Click. You just know each other. All of a sudden you see reading in bed and waffles on Sunday and laughing at nothing and his mouth on yours. And it's so far beyond fine that you know you can never go back to fine. That fast. You think: Oh, here is the rest of my life. It's finally arrived.

We just want you to be happy.' Rand and Marybeth said that all the time, but they never explained how. So many lessons and opportunities and advantages, and they never taught me how to be happy.

It doesn't matter, because I have found my match. It's Nick, laid-back and calm, smart and fun and uncomplicated. Untortured, happy. Nice. Big penis.

No relationship is perfect, they say—they, who make do with dutiful sex and gassy bedtime rituals, who settle for TV as conversation, who believe that husbandly capitulation—yes, honey, okay, honey—is the same as concord.

I stay home on Friday night with a bottle of wine and make myself an extravagant meal and tell myself, This is perfect, as if I'm the one dating me.

But I don't understand the point of being together if you're not the happiest.

It was about the worst outcome possible for my competitive wife: a town of contented also-rans.

That's what he learned from his life so far: always aim smaller.

But I felt, for once, decent. Not telling-myself-I-am decent, but just decent.

There's a difference between really loving someone and loving the idea of her. And finally: The important thing is she makes you really happy.

I was probably happier for those few years--pretending to be someone else--than I ever have been before or after. I can't decide what that means.