He toasted his bacon on a fork and caught the drops of fat on his bread; then he put the rasher on his thick slice of bread, and cut off chunks with a clasp-knife, poured his tea into his saucer, and was happy.

I'd rather be at Wragby, where I can go about and be still, and not stare at anything or do any performing of any sort. This tourist performance of enjoying oneself is too hopelessly humiliating: it's such a failure.

She had to live. It is useless to quarrel with one's bread and butter. And to expect a great deal out of life is puerile.

So long as you don't feel life's paltry, and a miserable business, the rest doesn't matter, happiness or unhappiness.

Happiness does not depend on any external conditions, it is governed by our mental attitude

Happy the man, and happy he alone, He, who can call to-day his own: He who, secure within, can say: "To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have liv'd to-day.

I learned thirty years ago that it is foolish to scold. I have enough trouble overcoming my own limitations without fretting over the fact that God has not seen fit to distribute evenly the gift of intelligence.

I am satisfied ... I see, dance, laugh, sing.

Henceforth I ask not good fortune. I myself am good fortune.

They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, they do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago.

What will be will be well — for what is is well, To take interest is well, and not to take interest is well.

The first step I say awed me and pleas'd me so much, I have hardly gone and hardly wish'd to go any farther, But stop and loiter all the time to sing it in ecstatic songs.