I was trying not to be happy, hopeful. I did not believe I deserved happiness or even hope, if you knew my soul.

I'll never be happy, how can you love me, I'm awful, I'm covered with spiders, I'm <i>doomed</i>.

I think and think and think, I‘ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.

Everybody strains after happiness, and the result is that nobody's happy.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul.

It is the very pursuit of happiness that thwarts happiness.

People lose a lot of time in hating others, and there's no fun in it at all.

A sure way to lose happiness, I found, is to want it at the expense of everything else.

It is impossible to derive happiness from the company of those whom we deprive of happiness.

At the end of the day, you won't be happy unil you love yourself.

No, the opposite of happiness is hopelessness, an endless gray horizon of resignation and indifference.3 It’s the belief that everything is fucked, so why do anything at all?

Self-hatred is worse than loneliness.

Why do you hate the idea of being with yourself so much that ‘the time you spend with yourself is now considered as loneliness'.

I'd realized that in writing happiness is useless-without suffering there is no story.