Quotes about happiness

"When I am in the country, I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They each have their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."

Let us draw upon Content for the deficiencies of fortune.

The sum of earthly bliss.

Hope elevates, and joy

Brightens his crest.

And feel that I am happier than I know.

They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet

Quaff immortality and joy.

Golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,

With joy and love triumphing.

Now no joy but lacks salt,

That is not dashed with pain

And weariness and fault;

I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark

Of almost too much love,

The sweet of bitter bark

And burning clove.

Happiness is a mystery like religion, and should never be rationalised.

Those only are happy (I thought) who have their minds fixed on some object other than their own happiness; on the happiness of others, on the improvement of mankind, even on some art or pursuit, followed not as a means, but as itself an ideal end. Aiming thus at something else, they find happiness by the way.

All those to whom I looked up, were of opinion that the pleasure of sympathy with human beings, and the feelings which made the good of others, and especially of mankind on a large scale, the object of existence, were the greatest and surest sources of happiness. Of the truth of this I was convinced, but to know that a feeling would make me happy if I had it, did not give me the feeling.

In this frame of mind it occurred to me to put the question directly to myself: "Suppose that all your objects in life were realized; that all the changes in institutions and opinions which you are looking forward to, could be completely effected at this very instant: would this be a great joy and happiness to you?" And an irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly answered, "No!" At this my heart sank within me: the whole foundation on which my life was constructed fell down. All my happiness was to have been found in the continual pursuit of this end. The end had ceased to charm, and how could there ever again be any interest in the means? I seemed to have nothing left to live for.