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 UfKjmt8DlD1eyXz7l/cVt7vL5pB8DfLIuyaUOaaADXlG1wVC11XNcFoe/O4CP+Xw