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If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam.
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.

— Nathaniel Cotton

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Happiness

More quotes by Nathaniel Cotton

Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.

'Tis the last act which crowns the play.

Yet still we hug the dear deceit.

Thus hand in hand through life we'll go;
Its checker'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread

I stew all night in my own grease.

All Nathaniel Cotton quotes →

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Nathaniel Cotton (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.