Through loyalty to the past, our mind refuses to realize that tomorrow’s joy is possible only if today’s makes way for it; that each wave owes the beauty of its line only to the withdrawal of the preceding one.

He who wishes to avenge injuries by hating in return does indeed live miserably. But he who, on the contrary, strives to drive out hatred by love, fights joyfully and confidently, with equal ease resisting one many or a number of men, and needing scarcely any assistance from fortune. Those whom he conquers yield gladly, not from defect of strength, but from an increase of it. These truths, however, all follow so plainly from the definitions of love and the intellect, that there is no need to demonstrate them singly.

Isn’t it always like this –
joy and sorrow calling

to each other
across an open field.

How strange the heart’s
equivalents –

she is leaving:
it is snowing.

To be joyous is to be a madman in a world of sad ghosts.

I believe that if, at the end of it all, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this, and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.

Cynicism is the true refuge of the pseudo-intellectual. Cynicism is easy. Joy is an extremely advanced spiritual and intellectual tenet.