The pursuit of happiness!It is not strange that men call it an illusion. But I am well satisfied that it is not thething itself,but the pursuit,that is an illusion Instead of thinking of the pursuit,why not fix our thoughts upon themoments,the hours, perhaps the days,of this divine peace,this merriment of body and mind,that can be repeated andperhaps indefinitely extended by the simplest of all means,namely,a disposition to make the best of whatever comesto us? Perhaps the Latin poet was right in saying that no man can count himself happy while in this life,that is,in acontinuous state of happinessbut as there is for the soul no time save the conscious moment called "now,"it is quitepossible to make that "now"a happy state of existence. The point I make is that we should not habitually postponethat season of happiness to the future
Sometimes wandering in a primeval forests,in all the witchery of the woods,be sought by the kindliestsolicitations of nature,wild flowers in the trail,the call of the squirrel,the flutter of birds,the great world-music of thewind in the pinetops,the flecks of sunlight on the brown carpet and on the rough bark of immemorial trees,I findmyself unconsciously postponing my enjoyment until I shall reach a hoped-for open place of full sun and
bound-less prospect.
