If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden.

The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions - the little soon forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimal of pleasurable and genial feeling.

The only really happy folk are married women and single men.

Happy people plan actions, they don't plan results.

The happiest people seem to be those who have no particular reason for being happy except that they are so.

When I look at what the world does and where people nowadays believe they can find happiness, I am not sure that that is true happiness. The happiness of these ordinary people seems to consist in slavishly imitating the majority, as if this were their only choice. And yet they all believe they are happy. I cannot decide whether that is happiness or not. Is there such a thing as happiness?

Happiness is an expression of the soul in considered actions.

Man's real life is happy chiefly because he is ever expecting that it soon will be so.

The happiest is he who suffers the least pain; the most miserable, he who enjoys the least pleasure.

How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes!