Everlasting happiness is not happiness.
Permanent bliss is not very blissful at all.
I love money, and cars, and interesting people, and the lazy Saturdays and unproductive Sundays, because they can all be taken away and come to pass. I love my temporary paradise because occasionally I get a peek at the world outside, so I can be sure it really is a paradise. So don’t preach me ancient proverbs and inner happiness ideals that I can purchase for a couple cents on the page, I’m satisfied with my false happiness and my material goods, I’m happy living good the one day and laying in misery the next because it gives me a taste of the “varying offensive” that is life.
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