Happiness? A good cigar, a good meal, a good cigar and a good

Hear now the words of George Burns, the great humorist whose laughter carried the wisdom of a long and human life: “Happiness? A good cigar, a good meal, a good cigar and a good woman — or a bad woman; it depends on how much happiness you can handle.” At first, these words seem wrapped in jest, like smoke curling from one of his beloved cigars. But beneath their mirth lies a truth as old as the human heart: that happiness is not found in perfection, but in the savoring of life itself — its warmth, its unpredictability, its bittersweet beauty.

For Burns, who lived nearly a century upon the earth, happiness was not an abstract pursuit but a daily ritual, a thing made tangible in the pleasures of existence. A good cigar, a good meal, the company of another — these are simple treasures, yet within them lies the whole art of living. He knew that joy is not a distant mountain peak to be conquered, but a moment to be inhaled, tasted, and shared. And in his playful admission that even a “bad woman” might bring happiness, he revealed the deeper lesson — that life, with all its contradictions, offers delight to those who have the courage to embrace it wholly, without judgment or fear.

George Burns was born into poverty, labored through hardship, and found fame not by accident, but by persistence and humor. He learned early that laughter was both shield and sword — a way to endure sorrow and a way to transform it. His happiness was not the naive joy of one untouched by pain, but the seasoned laughter of one who had faced life’s storms and still chosen to smile. When he lit a cigar or shared a joke, it was not indulgence, but a celebration of survival. To him, pleasure was not sin but gratitude — the soul’s way of saying, “I am still here, and life is still worth living.”

This truth has been known to many wise souls before him. The Roman philosopher Epicurus, often misunderstood as a hedonist, taught that happiness arises not from excess but from the mindful enjoyment of simple things: bread, friendship, and peace of mind. He said that the wise man does not crave abundance but learns to find delight in moderation. Burns, in his humor, echoed that same wisdom in modern tongue — for the good cigar and the good meal are not about luxury, but about presence. They are acts of attention, reminders to stop, breathe, and be content in the moment.

There is also a spark of courage in his words — the courage to take joy even when the world demands solemnity. To laugh, to eat well, to love boldly — these are acts of defiance against despair. When Burns quipped about “a bad woman,” he was not speaking of morality, but of vitality. He meant that life, in all its messiness, can still be sweet; that happiness is not delicate, but resilient. The soul that can handle much happiness is the one unafraid of chaos, unashamed of pleasure, unburdened by guilt. It is the soul that says yes to life, even when life is imperfect.

So, too, should we learn from him. Seek not to purify life of its contradictions, but to find joy within them. Let yourself delight in the small, the ordinary, the fleeting — a shared meal, a warm drink, a moment of laughter with a friend. When you are weary, take pleasure not as escape, but as restoration. Let humor be your strength, and gratitude your guide. For happiness, as Burns teaches, is not something to be achieved, but something to be allowed — like smoke rising into the evening sky, beautiful because it cannot be held.

Remember this lesson, children of tomorrow: happiness is not the absence of pain, nor the perfection of circumstance, but the embrace of life as it is — good and bad, light and shadow, sweet and bitter. The wise do not flee from pleasure, nor do they drown in it; they walk the golden middle path of appreciation. So when the night grows long, light your own metaphorical cigar, share laughter with those you love, and taste the richness of the world. For, as George Burns knew, joy belongs to those who are strong enough to feel it — and brave enough to handle it.