Isn't freedom the ability to do what you love? And isn't loving what we do is perfect happiness? We seek it, and believe it is to be at the top of the mountain. And Confucius tells us that happiness is the way to climb it.
We all know that waiting always hurts. Shakespeare was always happy because he expected nothing from anyone. Let's remember that we alone are responsible for our own happiness. My friend Raphaël Lévy told me when I saw him again after several years that happiness is always having something to do, always making plans. And that's what I'm doing right now.
We mistakenly believe that happiness lies in the quest for perfection. We need to be tolerant of imperfection. Speaking of contrary words , here are two more. They're from Buddha: "Happiness is born of altruism and unhappiness of selfishness", but it's Walt Disney who satisfies me the most: "Dream your life in color, that's the secret of happiness.
Happiness is so simple. Romain Gary was completely happy just biting into his cucumber. He stood there in the sun, his heart soothed as he looked at things and people with a friendly eye, realizing that his life was really worth living. In other words, all you have to do is find your vocation and give yourself to what you love with total self-abandonment.
I understand that misfortune sometimes strikes. King Solomon, in his proverbs, warned us: "On the day of happiness, rejoice, in the time of misfortune, reflect". But I sincerely believe, like Aldous Huxley, echoed by Jean D'Ormesson in Histoire du Juif errant, that in all great misfortunes, a little happiness slips in. Unhappiness, on the other hand, wears itself out to the point of destruction, and we have to wait for it to disappear to understand that it was there in the first place. I can add that in every happiness there is sometimes a little pain. In fact, Voltaire was the one who said: "Le malheur des uns fait le bonheur des autres" ("One man's unhappiness is another man's happiness").
The same D'Ormesson informs us that, like doubt and sorrow, happiness seeks every possible excuse to perpetuate itself. How can we fail to love it for its beautiful virtue? According to Aristotle, virtue should be enough to ensure happiness. Speaking of virtue, the same Aristotle also said that if virtue isn't enough to ensure happiness, wickedness is enough to make you unhappy.
I love this wonderful African proverb: "Happiness cannot be acquired, it does not reside in appearances, each of us builds it at every moment of our lives with our heart". Speaking of proverbs, the Chinese say that happiness is found in peace and tranquillity. The Frenchman, on the other hand, says that "money doesn't create happiness, but it contributes to it.
Victor Hugo came up with two short and sympathetic words. The first: "Happiness is sometimes hidden in the unknown". The second: "Melancholy is the happiness of being sad". I confess that the latter seems confusing, although it does dispel the bitter side of melancholy.
What about optimists? Are they the happiest? If I may say so, I feel happy in spite of everything. So much so, in fact, that I'd like to be the writer of happiness, and thus give or at least share with others the one thing that makes me a happy man.
And here is what I saved for the conclusion. I hope that these words from both the famous Friedrich Nietzsche and Victor Hugo will help the reader to appreciate what he or she has: "May everyone be fortunate enough to find just the conception of life that enables him or her to realize his or her maximum happiness." "True happiness is you, your voice, your gaze, everything that charms and intoxicates me.
