One cannot divine nor forecast the conditions that will make happiness; one only stumbles upon them by chance, in a lucky hour, at the world’s end somewhere, and holds fast to the days, as to fortune or fame.
Willa Cather, “Le Lavandou,” 1902 pU/ubDmzcN9KS+mAlrXHEDBaoiUWxYDyvVyn9QVkadiR+1Uf3Qk4kEApcsW6mER6