Sit mi'hi mensa tripes et
Coucha salis purl et toga quse defendere frigus Quamvis crassa queat.
Let me have a three-legged table, a dish of salt, and a cloak which, altho' coarse, will keep off the cold.
Yes! in the poor man's garden grow,
Far more than herbs and flowers,
Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind,
And joy for weary hours.
Contentment furnishes constant joy. Much covetousness, constant grief. To the contented even poverty is joy. To the discontented, even wealth is a vexation.
It is good for us to be here.
So well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do or say
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.
No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us,
All earth forgot, and all heaven around us!
Vive sine invidia, mollesque inglorius annos
Exige; amieitias et tibi junge pares.
May you live unenvied, and pass many pleasant years unknown to fame; and also have congenial friends.
The eagle nestles near the sun;
The dove's low nest for me!—
The eagle's on the crag; sweet one,
The dove's in our green tree!
For hearts that beat like thine and mine
Heaven blesses humble earth;—
The angels of our Heaven shall shine
The angels of our Hearth!
Si animus est squus tibi satis habes, qui bene vitam colas.
If you are content, you have enough to live comfortably.
Habeas ut nactus: nota mala res optima est.
Keep what you have got; the known evil is best.
Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf,
Not one will change his neighbor with himself.
I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, content with my harm.
He that commends me to mine own content
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
For mine own part, I could be well content
To entertain the lag-end of my life
With quiet hours.
The shepherd's homely curds.
His cold thin drink out of his leathern bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,
When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen: my crown is called content;
A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile,
And cry, "Content" to that which grieves my
heart;
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occasions.
'Tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.
Our content
Is our best having.
Shut up
In measureless content.
If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy;, for I fear
My soul hath her content so absolute
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.
'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.
Not on the outer world
For inward joy depend;
Enjoy the luxury of thought,
Make thine own self friend;
Not with the restless throng,
In search of solace roam
But with an independent zeal
Be intimate at home.
The noblest mind the best contentment has.
