Happiness

The first chapter of 'The Interpretation of Murder' by Jed Rubenfeld begins like this: "There is no mystery to happiness. Unhappy men are all alike. Some wound they suffered long ago, some wish denied, some blow to pride, some kindling spark of love put out by scorn - or worse, indifference - cleaves to them or they to it, and so they live each day with a shroud of yesterdays. The happy man does not look back. He doesn't look ahead. He lives in the present.