Let's live with that small pittance which we have;
Who covets more is evermore a slave.

Let's live with that small pittance which we have;
Who covets more is evermore a slave.

Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past,
And neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.

Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past,
And neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.

Nobody got anywhere in the world by simply being content.

Nobody got anywhere in the world by simply being content.

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.]

Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too read more

Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings.

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.

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.

There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn read more

There was a jolly miller once,
Lived on the River Dee;
He worked and sang, from morn to night;
No lark so blithe as he.
And this the burden of his song,
Forever used to be,--
"I care for nobody, not I,
If no one cares for me."

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.