Reason
13
ot enjoy
cause we
Bertrand Russell,
The Conquest of Happiness
at arises
d to the
That is
blessed-
over the
e mind's
to check
ely in the
ptions in
ses from
The British philosopher, mathematician, and social reformer, Bertrand Rus-
sell (1872–1970) studied at Cambridge University and later became a lec-
turer at that school. His most influential work was on the foundations of
muthematics, especially the ground-breaking Principia Mathematica, which
he wrote with Alfred North Whitehead (three volumes, 1910–1913). A
pacifist and liberal about such matters as religion and sexuality, his views
re quite controversial in the early part of the century. He was dismissed
from Cambridge in 1916 and spent the rest of his life living on his earnings
made an impact on popular culture with such books as Mysticism and
Logic (1918) and Why I Am Not a Christian (1957). Russell was al-
pays a zealous defender of rationality in every area of life, as is evident in
his lucid and commonsensical little book, The Conquest of Happiness
(1930). He was awarded the Nobel Prize in literature in 1950.
La priter and a lecturer. He wrote on almost every area of philosophy and
nonstrate
rning the
an is and
only lust
external
f he were
ases to be
e man, in
e of spirit,
imself, of
e spiritual
What Makes People Unhappy?
Animals are happy so long as they have health and enough to eat. Human
beings, one feels, ought to be, but they are not, at least in a great majority
of cases. If you are unhappy yourself, you will probably be prepared to
admit that you are not exceptional in this. If you are happy
, ask yourself
many of
your friends are so. And when you have reviewed your
friends, teach yourself the art of reading faces; make yourself receptive to
the moods of those whom you meet in the course of an ordinary day.
how
y difficult
und to be
ed without
All things
to be
A mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe
says Blake. Though the kinds are different, you will find that unhappiness
meets you everywhere. Stand in a busy street during working hours, or on
? main thoroughfare at a week-end, or at a dance of an evening; empty
From The Conquest of Happiness by Bertrand Russell. Copyright 1930 by Horace
Liveright, Inc., renewed © 1958 by Bertrand Russell. Reprinted by permission of
Liveright Publishing Corporation.
The Use of Reason
Bertrand Russell
174
175
say
that with every year that passes I
you
you
that I most
take possession of you one after another. You will find that each of
will see anxiety, excessive concentration, dyspepsia, lack of interest in
these different crowds has its own trouble. In the work-hour crowd
anything but the struggle, incapacity for play, unconsciousness of their
fellow creatures. On a main road at the week-end, you will see men and
women, all comfortably off, and some very rich, engaged in the pursuit of
pleasure. This pursuit is conducted by all at a uniform pace, that of the
slowest car in the procession; it is impossible to see the road for the cars, or
the scenery since looking aside would cause an accident; all the
of all the cars are absorbed in the desire to pass other cars, which they
cannot do on account of the crowd; if their minds wander from this
preoccupation, as will happen occasionally to those who are not them-
selves driving, unutterable boredom seizes upon them and stamps their
was restrained by the desire to know more mathematics. Now, on the
contrary, I enjoy life; I might almost s
enjoy it more. This is due partly to having discovered what were the things
t desired, and having gradually acquired many of these things.
Partly it is due to having successfully dismissed certain objects of desire-
other—as essentially unattainable. But very largely it is due to a diminish-
such as the acquisition of indubitable knowledge about something or
ing preoccupation with myself. Like others who had a Puritan education, I
had the habit of meditating on my sins, follies, and shortcomings. I seemed
to myself—no doubt justly—a miserable specimen. Gradually I learned
attention increasingly upon external objects: the state of the world, various
to be indifferent to myself and my deficiencies; I came to center my
branches of knowledge, individuals for whom I felt affection. External
interests, it is true, bring each its own possibility of pain: the world may
plunged in war, knowledge in some direction may be hard to achieve,
occupants
be
features with trivial discontent.
friends
may
These considerations lead us to the problem of the individual: what can a
man or woman, here and now, in the midst of our nostalgic society, do to
achieve happiness for himself or herself? In discussing this problem, I
shall confine my attention to those who are not subject to any extreme
cause of outward misery. I shall assume a sufficient income to secure food
and shelter, sufficient health to make ordinary bodily activities possible. I
shall not consider the great catastrophes, such as loss of all one's children,
or public disgrace. There are things to be said about such matters, and
they are important things, but they belong to a different order from the
things that I wish to say. My purpose is to suggest a cure for the ordinary
day-to-day unhappiness from which most people in civilized countries
suffer, and which is all the more unbearable because, having no obvious
external cause, it appears inescapable. I believe this unhappiness to be very
die. But pains of these kinds do not destroy the essential
quality of life, as do those that spring from disgust with self. And
every
external interest inspires some activity which, so long as the interest
remains alive, is a complete preventive of ennui. Interest in oneself, on the
contrary, leads to no activity of a progressive kind. It may lead to the
keeping of a diary, to getting psychoanalyzed, or perhaps to becoming a
monk. But the monk will not be happy until the routine of the monastery
has made him forget his own soul. The happiness which he attributes to
religion he could have obtained from becoming a crossing-sweeper, pro-
vided he were compelled to remain one. External discipline is the only
road to happiness for those unfortunates whose self-absorption is too
profound to be cured in any other way.
Self-absorption is of various kinds. We may take the sinner, the narciss-
ist, and the megalomaniac as three very common types.
largely due to mistaken views of the world, mistaken ethics, mistaken
habits of life, leading to destruction of that natural zest and appetite for
animals
,
power
of the
possible things upon which all happiness, whether of men or
ultimately depends. These are matters which lie within the
given average good fortune, may be achieved.
When I speak of “the sinner," I do not mean the man who commits sins:
the word. I mean the man who is absorbed in the consciousness of sin.
sins are committed by every one or no one, according to our definition of
This man is perpetually incurring his own disapproval, which, if he is
himself as he thinks he ought to be, which is in continual conflict with his
religious, he interprets as the disapproval of God. He has an image of
knowledge of himself as he is. If, in his conscious thought, he has long
sense of sin may be buried deep in his unconscious, and only emerge
since discarded the maxims that he was taught at his mother's knee, his
everything. At bottom he still accepts all the prohibitions he was taught in
shrewdness is wicked; above all, sex is wicked. He does not, of course,
drinking is wicked; ordinary business
individual, and I propose to suggest the change by which his happiness,
cate will be a few words of autobiography. I was not born happy. As a child,
Perhaps the best introduction to the philosophy which I wish to advo-
my favorite hymn was: “Weary of earth and laden with my sin.” At the age
of five, I reflected that, if I should live to be seventy, I had only endured, so
far, a fourteenth part of my whole life, and I felt the long-spread-out
boredom ahead of me to be almost unendurable. In adolescence, I hated
life and was continually on the verge of suicide, from which, however, I
when
infancy.
Swearing is wicked;
The Use of Reason
178
Bertrand Russell
179
things are
where they are
The psychological causes of unhappiness, it is clear, are many and
various. But all have something in common. The typical unhappy man is
one who, having been deprived in youth of some normal satisfaction, has
undue emphasis upon the achievement as opposed to the activities con-
therefore given to his life a one-sided direction, together with a quite
nected with it. There is, however, a further development which is
common in the present day. A man may feel so completely thwarted that
he seeks no form of satisfaction, but only distraction and oblivion. He then
becomes a devotee of "pleasure.” That is to say, he seeks to make life
bearable by becoming less alive. Drunkenness, for example, is temporary
suicide: the happiness that it brings is merely negative, a momentary
cessation of unhappiness. The narcissist and the megalomaniac believe
very
things: food and shelter, health, love, successful work and the respect of
people parenthood also is essential. Where these
one's own herd. To some
lacking, only the exceptional man can achieve happiness; but
enjoyed, or can be obtained by well-directed effort, the
ment which, if it is very grave, may need the services of a psychiatrist, but
man who is still unhappy is suffering from some psychological maladjust-
can in ordinary cases be cured by the patient himself, provided he sets
about the matter in the right way. Where outward circumstances are not
definitely unfortunate, a man should be able to achieve happiness, pro-
vided that his passions and interests are directed outward, not inward. It
should be our endeavor, therefore, both in education and in attempts to
adjust ourselves to the world, to aim at avoiding self-centered passions and
at acquiring those affections and those interests which will prevent our
thoughts from dwelling perpetually upon ourselves. It is not the nature of
most men to be happy in a prison, and the passions which shut us up in
ourselves constitute one of the worst kinds of prisons. Among such pas-
sions some of the commonest are fear, envy, the sense of sin, self-pity and
self-admiration. In all these our desires are centered upon ourselves: there
that happiness is possible, though they may adopt mistaken means of
achieving it; but the man who seeks intoxication, in whatever form, has
given up hope except in oblivion. In his case, the first thing to be done is to
persuade him that happiness is desirable. Men who are unhappy, like men
who sleep badly, are always proud of the fact. Perhaps their pride is like
that of the fox who had lost his tail; if so, the way to cure it is to point out to
them how they can grow a new tail. Very few men, I believe, will delib-
erately choose unhappiness if they see a way of being happy. I do not deny
that such men exist, but they are not sufficiently numerous to be impor-
tant. I shall therefore assume that the reader would rather be happy than
unhappy. Whether I can help him to realize this wish, I do not know; but at
any rate the attempt can do no harm.
is no genuine interest in the outer world, but only a concern lest it should
in some way injure us or fail to feed our ego. Fear is the principal reason
why men are so unwilling to admit facts and so anxious to wrap themselves
round in a warm garment of myth. But the thorns tear the warm garment
and the cold blasts penetrate through the rents, and the man who has
become accustomed to its warmth suffers far more from these blasts than a
man who has hardened himself to them from the first. Moreover, those
who deceive themselves generally know at bottom that they are doing so,
and live in a state of apprehension lest some untoward event should force
unwelcome realizations
upon
them.
One of the great drawbacks to self-centered passions is that they afford
so litle variety in life. The man who loves only himself cannot, it is true,
The Happy Man
as this
thought by many that happiness is impossible without a creed of a morter
Happiness, as is evident, depends partly upon external circumstances and
partly upon oneself. We have been concerned in this volume with the part
which depends upon oneself, and we have been led to the view that so far
s part is concerned the recipe for happiness is a very simple one. It is
less religious kind. It is thought by many who are themselves unhappy t
not believe that such things are genuine causes of either happiness or
their sorrows have complicated and highly intellectualized sources. I do
will, as a rule, adopt an unhappy creed, while the man who is happy
unhappiness; I think they are only symptoms. The man who is unhappy
his beliefs, while the real causation is the other way round. Certain things
adopt a happy creed; each may attribute his happiness or unhappiness to
are indispensable to the happiness of most men, but these are s
be accused of promiscuity in his affections, but he is bound in the end to
suffer intolerable boredom from the invariable sameness of the object of
his devotion. The man who suffers from a sense of sin is suffering from a
particular kind of self-love. In all this vast universe the thing that appears
to him of most importance is that he himself should be virtuous. It is a
grave defect in certain forms of traditional religion that they have encour-
aged this particular kind of self-absorption.
and wide interests, who secures his happiness through these interests and
The happy man is the man who lives objectively, who has free affections
interest and affection to many
affections and through the fact that they, in turn, make him an object of
potent cause of happiness, but the man who demands affection is not the
others. To be the recipient of affection is a
will
The Use of Reason
176
Bertrand Russell
177
abstain from any of these pleasures, but they are all poisoned for him by
the feeling that they degrade him. The one pleasure that he desires with
he can remember having experienced in childhood. This pleasure being no
his whole soul is that of being approvingly caressed by his mother, which
longer open to him, he feels that nothing matters; since he must sin, he
decides to sin deeply. When he falls in love, he looks for maternal tender-
ness, but cannot accept it, because, owing to the mother-image, he feels no
respect for any woman with whom he has sexual relations. Then, in his
disappointment, he becomes cruel, repents of his cruelty, and starts afresh
on the dreary round of imagined sin and real remorse. This is the psychol-
ogy of very many apparently hard-boiled reprobates. What drives them
Liberation from the tyranny of early beliefs and affections is the first step
together with the inculcation, in early years, of a ridiculous ethical code.
is limiting himself artificially just as truly as is the man dominated by a
sense of sin. The primitive man might be proud of being a good hunter,
a point, kills pleasure in every activity for its own sake, and thus leads
but he also enjoyed the activity of the chase. Vanity, when it passes beyond
inevitably to listlessness and boredom. Often its source is diffidence, and
its cure lies in the growth of self-respect. But this is only to be gained by
successful activity inspired by objective interests.
The megalomaniac differs from the narcissist by the fact that he wishes
to be powerful rather than charming, and seeks to be feared rather than
loved. To this type belong many lunatics and most of the great men in
history. Love of power, like vanity, is a strong element in normal human
s such is to be accepted; it becomes deplorable only when it is
excessive or associated with an insufficient sense of reality. Where this
occurs, it makes a man unhappy or foolish, if not both. The lunatic who
thinks he is a crowned head may be, in a sense, happy, but his happiness is
not of a kind that any sane person would envy. Alexander the Great was
psychologically of the same type as the lunatic, though he possessed the
mother-substitute)
and
nature,
astray is devotion to an unattainable object (mother or
towards happiness for these victims of maternal “virtue.”
Narcissism is
, in a sense, the converse of an habitual sense of sin; it
consists in the habit of admiring oneself and wishing to be admired. Up to
a point it is, of course, normal, and not to be deplored; it is only in its
excesses that it becomes a grave evil. In many women, especially rich
society women, the capacity for feeling love is completely dried up, and is
replaced by a powerful desire that all men should love them. When a
woman of this kind is sure that a man loves her, she has no further use for
him. The same thing occurs, though less frequently, with men; the classic
example is the hero of that remarkable novel “Liaisons Dangereuses,"
which describes the love affairs of French aristocrats just before the Revo-
lution. When vanity is carried to this height, there is no genuine interest in
any other person, and therefore no real satisfaction to be obtained from
love. Other interests fail even more disastrously. A narcissist, for example
,
inspired by the homage paid to great painters, may become an art student
;
but, as painting is for him a mere means to an end, the technique never
becomes interesting, and no subject can be seen except in relation to self.
valent to achieve the lunatic's dream. He could not, however, achieve his
own dream, which enlarged its scope as his achievement grew. When it
became clear that he was the greatest conqueror known to fame, he
decided that he was a god. Was he a happy man? His drunkenness, his
furious
rages,
his indifference to women, and his claim to divinity, suggest
that he was not. There is no ultimate satisfaction in the cultivation of one
element of human nature at the expense of all the others, nor in viewing all
the world as raw material for the magnificence of one's own ego. Usually
the megalomaniac, whether insane or nominally sane, is the product of
some excessive humiliation. Napoleon suffered at school from inferiority
to his schoolfellows, who were rich aristocrats, while he was a penurious
scholarship boy. When he allowed the return of the émigrés, he had the
satisfaction of seeing his former schoolfellows bowing down before him.
What bliss! Yet it led to the wish to obtain a similar satisfaction at the
expense of the Czar, and this led to Saint Helena. Since no man can be
omnipotent, a life dominated wholly by love of power can hardly fail,
sooner or later, to meet with obstacles that cannot be overcome. The
knowledge that this is so can be prevented from obtruding on conscious-
ness only by some form of lunacy, though if a man is sufficiently great he
the political and in the psychoanalytic sense thus go hand in hand. And
wherever psychoanalytic repression in any marked form takes place, there
o genuine happiness. Power kept within its
greatly to happiness, but as the sole end of life it leads to disaster, inwardly
can imprison
The result is failure and disappointment, with ridicule instead of the
expected adulation. The same thing applies to those novelists whose nov-
els always have themselves idealized as heroines. All serious success in
work depends upon some genuine interest in the material with which the
work is concerned. The tragedy of one successful politician after another
is the gradual substitution of narcissism for an interest in the community
and the measures for which he stands. The man who is only interested in
himself is not admirable, and is not felt to be so. Consequently the man
to achieve his object. But even if he does, he will not be completely happy,
whose sole concern with the world is that it shall admire him is not likely
since human instinct is never completely self-centered, and the narcissist
or execute those who point this out to him. Repressions in
IS NO
proper
add
bounds may
if not outwardly.
The Use of Reason
178
Bertrand Russell
179
things are
where they are
The psychological causes of unhappiness, it is clear, are many and
various. But all have something in common. The typical unhappy man is
one who, having been deprived in youth of some normal satisfaction, has
undue emphasis upon the achievement as opposed to the activities con-
therefore given to his life a one-sided direction, together with a quite
nected with it. There is, however, a further development which is
common in the present day. A man may feel so completely thwarted that
he seeks no form of satisfaction, but only distraction and oblivion. He then
becomes a devotee of "pleasure.” That is to say, he seeks to make life
bearable by becoming less alive. Drunkenness, for example, is temporary
suicide: the happiness that it brings is merely negative, a momentary
cessation of unhappiness. The narcissist and the megalomaniac believe
very
things: food and shelter, health, love, successful work and the respect of
people parenthood also is essential. Where these
one's own herd. To some
lacking, only the exceptional man can achieve happiness; but
enjoyed, or can be obtained by well-directed effort, the
ment which, if it is very grave, may need the services of a psychiatrist, but
man who is still unhappy is suffering from some psychological maladjust-
can in ordinary cases be cured by the patient himself, provided he sets
about the matter in the right way. Where outward circumstances are not
definitely unfortunate, a man should be able to achieve happiness, pro-
vided that his passions and interests are directed outward, not inward. It
should be our endeavor, therefore, both in education and in attempts to
adjust ourselves to the world, to aim at avoiding self-centered passions and
at acquiring those affections and those interests which will prevent our
thoughts from dwelling perpetually upon ourselves. It is not the nature of
most men to be happy in a prison, and the passions which shut us up in
ourselves constitute one of the worst kinds of prisons. Among such pas-
sions some of the commonest are fear, envy, the sense of sin, self-pity and
self-admiration. In all these our desires are centered upon ourselves: there
that happiness is possible, though they may adopt mistaken means of
achieving it; but the man who seeks intoxication, in whatever form, has
given up hope except in oblivion. In his case, the first thing to be done is to
persuade him that happiness is desirable. Men who are unhappy, like men
who sleep badly, are always proud of the fact. Perhaps their pride is like
that of the fox who had lost his tail; if so, the way to cure it is to point out to
them how they can grow a new tail. Very few men, I believe, will delib-
erately choose unhappiness if they see a way of being happy. I do not deny
that such men exist, but they are not sufficiently numerous to be impor-
tant. I shall therefore assume that the reader would rather be happy than
unhappy. Whether I can help him to realize this wish, I do not know; but at
any rate the attempt can do no harm.
is no genuine interest in the outer world, but only a concern lest it should
in some way injure us or fail to feed our ego. Fear is the principal reason
why men are so unwilling to admit facts and so anxious to wrap themselves
round in a warm garment of myth. But the thorns tear the warm garment
and the cold blasts penetrate through the rents, and the man who has
become accustomed to its warmth suffers far more from these blasts than a
man who has hardened himself to them from the first. Moreover, those
who deceive themselves generally know at bottom that they are doing so,
and live in a state of apprehension lest some untoward event should force
unwelcome realizations
upon
them.
One of the great drawbacks to self-centered passions is that they afford
so litle variety in life. The man who loves only himself cannot, it is true,
The Happy Man
as this
thought by many that happiness is impossible without a creed of a morter
Happiness, as is evident, depends partly upon external circumstances and
partly upon oneself. We have been concerned in this volume with the part
which depends upon oneself, and we have been led to the view that so far
s part is concerned the recipe for happiness is a very simple one. It is
less religious kind. It is thought by many who are themselves unhappy t
not believe that such things are genuine causes of either happiness or
their sorrows have complicated and highly intellectualized sources. I do
will, as a rule, adopt an unhappy creed, while the man who is happy
unhappiness; I think they are only symptoms. The man who is unhappy
his beliefs, while the real causation is the other way round. Certain things
adopt a happy creed; each may attribute his happiness or unhappiness to
are indispensable to the happiness of most men, but these are s
be accused of promiscuity in his affections, but he is bound in the end to
suffer intolerable boredom from the invariable sameness of the object of
his devotion. The man who suffers from a sense of sin is suffering from a
particular kind of self-love. In all this vast universe the thing that appears
to him of most importance is that he himself should be virtuous. It is a
grave defect in certain forms of traditional religion that they have encour-
aged this particular kind of self-absorption.
and wide interests, who secures his happiness through these interests and
The happy man is the man who lives objectively, who has free affections
interest and affection to many
affections and through the fact that they, in turn, make him an object of
potent cause of happiness, but the man who demands affection is not the
others. To be the recipient of affection is a
will
The Use of Reason
180
Bertrand Russell
181
interest, for a
have put
calculation, in the way in which one might lend money at
man
quence
man upon whom it is bestowed. The man who receives affection is, speak-
ing broadly, the man who gives it. But it is useless to attempt to give it as a
calculated affection is not genuine and is not felt to be so by the recipient.
What then can a man do who is unhappy because he is encased in self
continues to be self-centered and therefore does not get outside the
So long as he continues to think about the causes of his unhappiness, he
vicious circle; if he is to get outside it, it must be by genuine interests, not
by simulated interests adopted merely as a medicine. Although this
difficulty is real, there is nevertheless much that he can do if he has rightly
diagnosed his trouble. If, for example, his trouble is due to a sense of sin,
conscious or unconscious, he can first persuade his conscious mind that he
has no reason to feel sinful, and then proceed, by the kind of technique
that we have considered in earlier chapters, to plant this rational convic-
Professional moralists have made too much of self-denial, and in so doing
the emphasis in the wrong place. Conscious self-denial leaves a
self-absorbed and vividly aware of what he has sacrificed; in conse-
it fails often of its immediate object and almost always of its
ultimate purpose. What is needed is not self-denial, but that kind of
the same acts that a person absorbed in the pursuit of his own virtue
could only perform by means of conscious self-denial. I have written in
this book as a hedonist, that is to say, as one who regards happiness as the
good, but the acts to be recommended from the point of view of the
hedonist are on the whole the same as those to be recommended by the
sane moralist. The moralist, however, is too apt, though this is not, of
course, universally true, to stress the act rather than the state of mind. The
effects of an act upon the agent will be widely different, according to his
state of mind at the moment. If you see a child drowning and save it as the
to
morally. If, on the other hand, you say to yourself, “It is the part of virtue
tion in his unconscious mind, concerning himself meanwhile with some
more or less neutral activity. If he succeeds in dispelling the sense of sin, it
is probable that genuinely objective interests will arise spontaneously. If
his trouble is self-pity, he can deal with it in the same manner after first
persuading himself that there is nothing extraordinarily unfortunate in his
circumstances. If fear is his trouble, let him practice exercises designed to
give courage. Courage in war has been recognized from time immemorial
as an important virtue, and a great part of the training of boys and
young
men has been devoted to producing a type of character capable of fearless-
ness in battle. But moral courage and intellectual courage have been much
less studied; they also, however, have their technique. Admit to yourself
every day at least one painful truth; you will find this quite as useful as the
Boy Scout's daily kind action. Teach yourself to feel that life would still be
worth living even if you were not, as of course you are, immeasurably
superior to all your friends in virtue and in intelligence. Exercises of this
sort prolonged through several years will at last enable you to admit facts
secult of a direct impulse to bring help, you will emerge none the worse
to succor the helpless, and I wish to be a virtuous man, therefore I must
save this child,” you will be an even worse man afterwards than you were
before
. What applies in this extreme case, applies in many other instances
that are less obvious.
There is another difference, somewhat more subtle, between the atti-
tude towards life that I have been recommending and that which is recom-
mended by the traditional moralists. The traditional moralist, for exam-
say that love should be unselfish. In a certain sense he is right, that
is to say, it should not be selfish beyond a point, but it should undoubtedly
be of such a nature that one's own happiness is bound up in its success. If a
man were to invite a lady to marry him on the ground that he ardently
desired her happiness and at the same time considered that she would
afford him ideal opportunities of self-abnegation, I think it may be
ple, will
without flinching, and will, in so doing, free you from the empire of fear
you
when you
over a very large field.
What the objective interests are to be that will arise in
have overcome the disease of self-absorption must be left to the spor
doubted whether she would be altogether pleased. Undoubtedly we
should desire the happiness of those whom we love, but not as an alterna-
tive to our own. In fact the whole antithesis between self and the rest of the
world, which is implied in the doctrine of self-denial, disappears as soon as
we have any genuine interest in persons or things outside ourselves.
life, not a hard separate entity like a billiard ball, which can have no
Through such interests a man comes to feel himself part of the stream of
relation with other such entities except that of collision. All unhappiness
disintegration within the self through lack of coordination between the
s upon some kind of disintegration or lack of integration; there is
the self and society, where the two are not knit together by the force of
but
you
taneous workings of your nature and of external circumstances. Do not say
to yourself in advance, “I should be happy if I could become absorbed in
well happen that you will fail altogether to find stamp-collecting interest-
stamp-collecting,” and thereupon set to work to collect stamps, for it may
pretty sure that genuine objective interests will grow up as soon as
The happy life is to an extraordinary extent the same as the good life.
ing. Only what genuinely interests you can be of any use to you,
may
be
you have learnt not to be immersed in self.
Purchase answer to see full
attachment