Most people have never learned that one of the main aims in life

“Most people have never learned that one of the main aims in life is to enjoy it.” – Samuel Butler

In this piercing yet gentle observation, Samuel Butler, the English novelist and philosopher of paradox, unveils a truth that is both ancient and often forgotten: that life was meant to be enjoyed. His words strike not as indulgence, but as wisdom — a reminder that existence, with all its struggles, labors, and duties, was not designed merely for survival or achievement, but for the quiet art of living well. Yet, as Butler laments, most souls pass through the world without ever truly learning this. They chase duty, fear failure, bow to convention, and mistake restlessness for purpose. In doing so, they overlook the simplest of truths: that joy itself is sacred — that to enjoy life is not to waste it, but to honor it.

Butler lived in an age that worshiped toil. The Victorian world around him exalted industry, discipline, and moral rigor, often at the expense of the heart’s delight. Against this tide, he stood as a quiet heretic of happiness. In his writings, he questioned the moral machinery of his time — the endless grind of ambition and conformity — and sought to restore pleasure to its rightful place in the philosophy of life. His words echo those of the ancients — of Epicurus, who taught that the purpose of life is not to accumulate wealth or power, but to seek tranquil joy, the harmony of body and mind; and of Aristotle, who wrote that happiness, or eudaimonia, is the very goal toward which all human action tends.

To enjoy life, as Butler understood it, does not mean to live carelessly or selfishly. It means to awaken — to see beauty in the ordinary, to take pleasure in the act of being. It is to savor the taste of bread, the sound of rain, the company of friends, the mystery of thought, the laughter of a child. It is to be present, and to let gratitude turn existence into celebration. Yet most people, he says, never learn this art. They postpone joy — telling themselves it will come “later,” after success, after duty, after security. But “later” never arrives, and so their lives pass like unplayed music, their hearts deafened by the noise of urgency.

History offers many who embodied Butler’s wisdom — men and women who understood that the fullness of life is not measured by its length or wealth, but by its joy. Consider Henry David Thoreau, who withdrew from the world to the quiet shores of Walden Pond. There, he wrote, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.” He did not seek riches, but richness of experience. By finding delight in simplicity — in the reflection of water, the flight of birds, the rhythm of his own breath — he discovered that joy is not bought, but perceived. Thoreau lived as Butler would have counseled: not running from life, but walking through it with wonder.

The tragedy Butler describes is not that men suffer, but that they forget to rejoice. They live as if joy were a luxury, not a birthright. They chase the illusion of purpose while neglecting the true purpose — to be alive in gratitude and awareness. And in their pursuit of the distant, they lose the near. This, he suggests, is the great irony of the human race: we are surrounded by miracles — the light of morning, the breath of air, the pulse of creation — and yet we move through them half-blind, worrying about what lies beyond.

The lesson is this: do not postpone the enjoyment of life. Do not wait for permission to be happy. Seek moments of peace, however small; practice delight as a form of wisdom. Work with purpose, yes, but also with joy. Love deeply. Rest often. Laugh freely. Let the hours of your life not merely pass, but sing. For joy, as Butler teaches, is not a distraction from life’s purpose — it is its purpose.

So remember the poet’s quiet command: “Learn to enjoy life.” Make it your practice, your prayer, your philosophy. Drink deeply from the cup of the present, for it will not be offered again. When you look back upon your days, let it not be said that you were too busy to live. Let it be said that you, unlike most, learned the secret — that joy is not found at the end of life’s road, but woven through every step along the way.