#happines

Happy is the soul that has a friend. Happier is the soul that trusts in the truth of the heart of a friend. Happiest is the soul that knows the solemnity of friendship and honours its laws. ↗

— Ogwo David Emenike

#friendship #friendship-quotes #happiness #happy #ogwo-david-emenike

Life is like a coin. 999, 999 cannot be a million without it. Just like in life, we cannot be truly happy without a person who will complete us. I may not be the coin who will make you a million, but I can be a part of your 999, 999. ↗

— Cherryl Anne Lintag

#friendship #happiness #life #love #million

It is not really hard to do nothing. Many can. The hard part is doing nothing without feeling guilty about it. ↗

— Haim Shapira

#happiness #wisdom #funny

The night I left home I felt that I had been tricked or trapped into going - and not even by Mrs Winterson, but by the dark narrative of our life together. Her fatalism was so powerful. She was her own black hole that pulled in all the light. She was made of dark matter and her force was invisible unseen except in its effects. What would it have meant to be happy? What would it have meant if things had been bright, clear, good between us? ↗

— Jeanette Winterson

#home

St. John,” I said, “I think you are al­most wicked to talk so. I am dis­posed to be as con­tent as a queen, and you try to stir me up to rest­less­ness! To what end?” “To the end of turn­ing to profit the tal­ents which God has committed to your keep­ing; and of which He will surely one day de­mand a strict ac­count. Jane, I shall watch you closely and anx­iously—I warn you of that. And try to re­strain the dis­pro­por­tion­ate fervour with which you throw your­self into com­mon­place home pleasures. Don’t cling so tena­ciously to ties of the flesh; save your con­stancy and ar­dour for an ad­e­quate cause; for­bear to waste them on trite tran­sient ob­jects. Do you hear, Jane?” “Yes; just as if you were speak­ing Greek. I feel I have ad­e­quate cause to be happy, and I will be happy. Good­bye! ↗

— Charlotte Brontë

#independence #home

Happiness is a warm puppy. ↗

— Charles M. Schulz

#dogs #happiness #humor #puppies #humor

People will ask you the question 'how is life treating you?' But my question is 'how are you treating life?' On that your happiness rests ↗

— Rasheed Ogunlaru

#flow #happiness #happyness #inner-peace #questioning

In Kilanga, people knew nothing of things they might have had- A Frigidaire? a washer-dryer combination? Really, they'd sooner imagine a tree that could pull up it's feet and go bake bread. It didn't occur to them to feel sorry for themselves. ↗

— Barbara Kingsolver

#happiness #poverty #imagination

Ivan tells Anna: "I used to imagine that being embraced by a woman . . . as something so wonderful that it would make me forget everthing . . . [But] happiness, it turns out, will be to share with you the burden I can't share with anyone else. ↗

— Vasily Grossman

#happiness #imagination

Happiness There's just no accounting for happiness, or the way it turns up like a prodigal who comes back to the dust at your feet having squandered a fortune far away. And how can you not forgive? You make a feast in honor of what was lost, and take from its place the finest garment, which you saved for an occasion you could not imagine, and you weep night and day to know that you were not abandoned, that happiness saved its most extreme form for you alone. No, happiness is the uncle you never knew about, who flies a single-engine plane onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes into town, and inquires at every door until he finds you asleep midafternoon as you so often are during the unmerciful hours of your despair. It comes to the monk in his cell. It comes to the woman sweeping the street with a birch broom, to the child whose mother has passed out from drink. It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker, and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots in the night. It even comes to the boulder in the perpetual shade of pine barrens, to rain falling on the open sea, to the wineglass, weary of holding wine. ↗

— Jane Kenyon

#jane #kenyon #forgiveness