Every moment has its pleasures and its hope.

...when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.

Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn--that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness--that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.

You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.