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 GrkfDTCDjVepiEhK5TG4d965lcmK+/4S7a94UBbOEJ8kXpMooAvzBCuc/GDgd6GX