There is some pleasure in having no pleasure.

Isn't there a pleasure in criticising everything and discovering faults where other men detect beauties?

In general, then, pleasure is not good, because every pleasure is a perceptible process of coming into its nature; but no coming-into-being belongs to the same class as the ends we pursue — for

There is no pleasure in having nothing to do; the fun is having lots to do and not doing it.

Pleasure’s a sin, and sometimes sin’s a pleasure

What if pleasure and displeasure were so tied together that whoever wanted to have as much as possible of one must also have as much as possible of the other … you have the choice: either as little displeasure as possible, painlessness in brief … or as much displeasure as possible as the price for the growth of an abundance of subtle pleasures and joys that have rarely been relished yet? If you decide for the former and desire to diminish and lower the level of human pain, you also have to diminish and lower the level of their capacity for joy.

The pleasure of criticizing takes away from us the pleasure of being moved by some very fine things.

Why should a sequence of words be anything but a pleasure?

If we had no faults we should not find so much enjoyment in seeing faults in others

What if pleasure and displeasure were so tied together that whoever wanted to have as much as possible of one must also have as much as possible of the other. You have a choice in life: either as little displeasure as possible, painlessness in brief or as much displeasure as possible as the price for an abundance of subtle pleasures and joys

Pleasure is not different from difficulty. Good is not different from bad. Bad is good; good is bad. They are two sides of one coin. So enlightenment should be in practice. That is the right understanding of practice, and the right understanding of our life. So to find pleasure in suffering is the only way to accept the truth of transiency.

I can sympathize with people's pains, but not with their pleasure. There is something curiously boring about somebody else's happiness.

I have always been mystified by the speed with which people condemn one another. Feeling as righteous as Christ chastising the money-changers in the temple, they cast their fellows into the outer darkness of their disapproval. This seems to give them intense pleasure. Whenever I am tempted by this pleasure, I remember some impulse in myself that could have led me, granted certain circumstances, into the condemned position. This has caused me to distrust the part of myself that would relish self-righteousness.

On se console souvent d’être malheureux par un certain plaisir qu’on trouve à le paraître.