Slowly I felt flooded with that agonizing and poignant confusion that surely comes to all aging men experiencing their first adolescent love. I had no great wish to go on living; what was the point of a flawed happiness. According to Bonnard, the hardest moment of all is when the artist longs to keep on but he’s conscience tells him that one brushstroke more will spoil the entire painting. And man has to know when to stop.

The dominant strain of the twentieth century, whether emanating from Marx or Freud, has been self-awareness; we have lost the art of forgetting ourselves. Which means we have little chance of being happy, since so much of happiness consists of inner peace; of playing ostrich, in fact. To say nothing of the fact that all this psychological self-consciousness is rather vulgar...

Perhaps, there was something missing in me, a lack of empathy without which even love and happiness are merely a part of that struggle toward championship.

Laura is adorable, father. But she is made for enjoyment of life, for gaiety, happiness. You must realize that these are not the qualities upon which one can found a family...

I wondered — and I finally reached the conclusion that the Lebanese was a man who was in love with life, and that his carefree, enormous laugh— head thrown back, eyes closed in a grimace of mirth — celebrated a perfect, a total understanding between the two, an agreement which nothing ever managed to disturb: happiness, in fact. A beautiful affair: life and Habib were inseparable.

My love, I caught sight of you a few moments ago, deep in conversation with a very sober-looking man, and I thought here is a bureaucrat sent by Reality to demand a full accounting, to investigate us on suspicion of fraud... on suspicion of being happy. Yes, there is something scandalous, something privileged and elitist about our love, because two people happily in love always turn their backs on the world; and so I am afraid. (From Laura’s note).

To 'live', to be truly alive, it is not enough simply to breathe, to suffer, nor even to be happy; life is a secret that cannot be discovered on one’s own. True living is done in pairs.