The hunter for aphorisms on human nature has to fish in muddy water, and he is even condemned to find much of his own mind.
F. H. BradleyRead
The secret of happiness is to admire without desiring. And that is not happiness.
Interpretation
True happiness comes from appreciating what we have rather than longing for more.
F. H. Bradley suggests that happiness is rooted in the ability to admire and appreciate the present moment and its experiences, without falling into the trap of desire and longing for things we do not possess. When we focus on wanting more, we often miss the joy found in gratitude and acceptance, which is central to true happiness.
In practice
In a speech about cultivating a positive mindset, one might say, 'As F. H. Bradley wisely noted, the secret of happiness is to admire without desiring.'
The hunter for aphorisms on human nature has to fish in muddy water, and he is even condemned to find much of his own mind.
Where everything is bad it must be good to know the worst.
True penitence condemns to silence. What a man is ready to recall he would be willing to repeat.
Our live experiences, fixed in aphorisms, stiffen into cold epigrams. Our heart's blood, as we write it, turns to mere dull ink.
Metaphysics is the finding of bad reasons for what we believe on instinct.
One said of suicide, As long as one has brains one should not blow them out. And another answered, But when one has ceased to have them, too often one cannot.
Make it a habit to tell people thank you. To express your appreciation, sincerely and without the expectation of anything in return. Truly appreciate those around you, and you'll soon find many others around you. Truly appreciate life, and you'll find that you have more of it.
Things and conditions can give you pleasure but they cannot give you joy- joy arises from within.
I could see no reason for being sad. ItΒ΄s just that it makes me unhappy not to feel happy.
The small things of life were often so much bigger than the great things . . . the trivial pleasure like cooking, one's home, little poems especially sad ones, solitary walks, funny things seen and overheard.
Little by little, even with other cares, the slowly but surely working poison of the garden-mania begins to stir in my long-sluggish veins.
There are some days when I think I'm going to die from an overdose of satisfaction.
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