unknown to him whose wisdom is born of sorrow.

"Is happiness truly as happy as people imagine?" was asked of two
happy ones once by a philosopher whom protracted injustice had
saddened. No; it is a thing more desirable far, but also much less
to be envied, than people suppose; for it is in itself quite other
than they can conceive who have never been perfectly happy. To be
gay is not to be happy, nor will he who is happy always be gay. It
is only the little ephemeral pleasures that forever are smiling; and
they die away as they smile. But some loftiness once obtained,
lasting happiness becomes no less grave than majestic sorrow. Wise
men have said it were best for us not to be happy, so that happiness
thus might be always the one thing desired. But how shall the sage,
to whom happiness never has come, be aware that wisdom is the one
thing alone that happiness neither can sadden nor weary? Those
thinkers have learned to love wisdom with a far more intimate love
whose lives have been happy, than those whose lives have been sad.
The wisdom forced into growth by misfortune is different far from
the wisdom that ripens beneath happiness. The first, where it seeks
to console, must whisper of happiness; the other tells of itself. He
who is sad is taught by his wisdom that happiness yet may be his; he
who is happy is taught by his wisdom that he may become wiser still.
The discovery of happiness may well be the great aim of wisdom; and
we needs must be happy ourselves before we can know that wisdom
itself contains all.

57. There are some who are wholly unable to support the burden of
joy. There is a courage of happiness as well as a courage of sorrow.
It may even be true that permanent happiness calls for more strength
in man than permanent sorrow; for the heart wherein wisdom is not