Be where thou wilt, thou wilt not harbor here.[[1]]
[1]. Barnabe Barnes.
What philosopher among all who have moralized and analyzed has discovered the sought-for stone? Amiel failed in the pursuit: “I am always waiting for the woman and the work which shall be capable of taking entire possession of my soul, and of becoming my end and aim.” “A man’s happiness,” says Alphonse Karr, in an apothegm worthy of La Bruyère, “consists in that which he has not got, or that which he no longer has.” The coveted bauble palls when it is finally ours, the “dove” escapes, and we all grow old. Absolute happiness flees when we enter our ’teens. Methinks the French poet Chénier has resolved the experience of most of us with reference to a certain phase of life as felicitously as any of those who have endured and felt:
Tout homme a ses douleurs. Mais aux yeux de ses frères
Chacun d’un front serein déguise ses misères,
Chacun ne plaint que soi. Chacun dans son ennui
Envie un autre humain qui se plaint comme lui.
Nul des autres mortels ne mesure les peines,
Qu’ils savent tous cacher comme il cache les siennes,
Et chacun, l’œil en pleurs, en son cœur douloureux