We love those we are happy with. We do. For how else can we know we love them, or how else define loving?

happiness makes us older, less romantic, less in need of dreams. Discontent, not happiness, is the food of youth and poetry.

I have reached the stage now where luxury is not in fine possessions but in carefree possessions, and the greatest luxury of all would be the completely expendable.

If you would be happy all your life, plant a garden.

One of the many possible divisions of human beings is into those who make and those who use.

the large black slugs ... come out at dusk. Enormous slugs. As big as crocodiles. So huge we need a gun to shoot them. And by the end of the summer, if they go on growing, we shall have to go out in pairs together for protection.

Most of us are experts at solving other people's problems, but we generally solve them in terms of our own and the advice we give is seldom for other people but for ourselves.