No mockery in this world ever sounds to me so hollow as that of being told to cultivate happiness. What does such advice mean ? Happiness is not a potato, to be planted in mould, and tilled with manure. Happiness is a glory shining far down upon us out of Heaven. She is a divine dew which the soul, on certain of its summer mornings, feels dropping upon it from the amaranth bloom and golden fruitage of Paradise.
This week's book is Villette by Charlotte Brontë and we'll be meeting at Ye Olde Cocke on Wilmslow Road in Didsbury — contact us for details.