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 hFodj3HiNFuHEE/w2uXQRB6w2FH8SW/vYavbyBxWl2aSO3hJzVIaqLUnEdHc0whP