After all, what is happiness? Love, they tell me. But love doesn't bring and never has brought happiness. On the contrary, it's a constant state of anxiety, a battlefield; it's sleepless nights, asking ourselves all the time if we're doing the right thing. Real love is composed of ecstasy and agony.
Happiness does not come from without, it comes from within
Money may not buy happiness, but I'd rather cry in a Jaguar than on a bus.
Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.
A quiet secluded life in the country, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes may be of some use; then rest, nature, books, music, love for one's neighbor - such is my idea of happiness.
Happiness is not a goal...it's a by-product of a life well lived.