these, says Ruskin, "are the things that make men happy."

"I have fallen into the hands of thieves," says Jeremy Taylor; "what then?
They have left me the sun and moon, fire and water, a loving wife and many
friends to pity me, and some to relieve me, and I can still discourse;
and, unless I list, they have not taken away my merry countenance and my
cheerful spirit and a good conscience.... And he that hath so many causes
of joy, and so great, is very much in love with sorrow and peevishness who
loses all these pleasures, and chooses to sit down on his little handful
of thorns."

"When a man has such things to think on, and sees the sun, the moon, and
stars, and enjoys earth and sea, he is not solitary or even helpless."
[18]

"Paradise indeed might," as Luther said, "apply to the whole world." What
more is there we could ask for ourselves? "Every sort of beauty," says Mr.
Greg, [19] "has been lavished on our allotted home; beauties to enrapture
every sense, beauties to satisfy every taste; forms the noblest and the
loveliest, colors the most gorgeous and the most delicate, odors the
sweetest and subtlest, harmonies the most soothing and the most stirring:
the sunny glories of the day; the pale Elysian grace of moonlight; the
lake, the mountain, the primeval forest, and the boundless ocean; 'silent
pinnacles of aged snow' in one hemisphere, the marvels of tropical
luxuriance in another; the serenity of sunsets; the sublimity of storms;
everything is bestowed in boundless profusion on the scene of our
existence; we can conceive or desire nothing more exquisite or perfect
than what is round us every hour; and our perceptions are so framed as to
be consciously alive to all. The provision made for our sensuous enjoyment
is in overflowing abundance; so is that for the other elements of our