In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and round as an apple is he,
Content with the present whate'er it may be,
While from care and from cash he is equally free,
And merry both night and day!
"Ma foi! I laugh at the world," says he,
"I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!"
What a gay little man in gray.
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Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?
With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek read more
With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek what ancient sages sought,
Physic and food in sour and sweet,
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from the heart.
Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy
my remaining days, if read more
Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy
my remaining days, if Heaven grant any to remain.
[Lat., Sit mihi quod nunc est, etiam minus et mihi vivam
Quod superest aevi--si quid superesse volunt di.]
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither read more
Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither hopes deceive, nor fears torment,
But lives at peace, within himself content;
In thought, or act, accountable to none
But to himself, and to the gods alone.
Nobody got anywhere in the world by simply being content.
Nobody got anywhere in the world by simply being content.
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
read more
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
Are furnish'd as plain as a patriarch's tent,
With all for convenience, but nothing for show:
Like Robinson Crusoe's, both peaceful and pleasant,
By industry stor'd, like the hive of a bee;
And the peer who looks down with contempt on a peasant.
Can ne'er be look'd up to with envy by me.
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet read more
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
read more
We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudent to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor;
And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor;
And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
