Happiness is a ball after which we run wherever it rolls, and we push it with our feet when it stops.

After what we can say you can be sure the happy heart will make the happy day.

A person is never happy till their vague strivings has itself marked out its proper limitations.

Happiness is a perpetual possession of being well deceived.

Happiness is a perfume which you cannot pour on someone without getting some on yourself.

Few people can be happy unless they hate some other person, nation, or creed.

There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.

We are more interested in making others believe we are happy than in trying to be happy ourselves.

When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him; and you are torn by the thought of the unhappiness and night you cast, by the mere fact of living, in the hearts you encounter.

To fill the hour -- that is happiness.