Observe a child: any one will do. You will see that not a day passes in which he does not

find something or other to make him happy, though he may be in tears the next moment. Then look at a man: any one of us will do. You will notice that weeks and months can pass in which every day is greeted with nothing more than resignation, and endured with polite indifference. Indeed, most men are as miserable as sinners, though they are too bored to sin—perhaps their sin is their indifference. But it is true that they so seldom smile, that when they do we do not recognize their face, so distorted it is from the fixed mask we take for granted. And even then a man can not smile like a child, for a child smiles with his eyes, whereas a man smiles with his lips alone. It is not a smile, but a grin: something to do with humor, but little to do with happiness. And then, as anyone can see, there is a point(but who can define that point？)when a man becomes an old man, and then he will smile again. It would seem that happiness is something to do with simplicity, and that it is the ability to extract pleasure from the simplest things such as a peach stone, for instance.