To describe happiness is to diminish it.

In the profound words of Stendhal, the keen observer of the human heart, we encounter a subtle and enduring truth: “To describe happiness is to diminish it.” Here lies a meditation on the ephemeral and sacred nature of joy — that the attempt to capture it in words, to dissect it with reason, or to display it for others, risks stripping it of its fullness. Happiness, Stendhal implies, is not merely an object of thought or language, but a living experience, delicate and fleeting, that loses its luster when subjected to analysis or exposition.

The origin of this reflection arises from Stendhal’s own life as a writer, traveler, and observer of society in 19th-century France. In his novels and memoirs, he explored the paradoxes of human desire, love, and pleasure, understanding that the soul’s moments of bliss often evade articulation. Language, however eloquent, is bound by structure and logic, while happiness is boundless, elusive, and intensely personal. By attempting to describe it, one risks confining the infinite, reducing the luminous to the ordinary, and diminishing the sacred quality that makes happiness so profound.

The meaning of this teaching extends to all who seek joy in life. Happiness is a living flame, a delicate light that glows brightest when felt, not narrated. When we attempt to explain it, we impose limits upon it, framing it within the confines of words and memory rather than allowing it to exist in the immediacy of experience. True happiness is experienced, not explained, and its power lies in its intimacy and immediacy. To speak of it is to risk transforming it into an object, robbing it of the mystery and vitality that make it life-affirming.

History offers a vivid example of this truth in the life of Beethoven. The composer, in the solitude of his deafness, found moments of sublime joy in the act of creation, in the orchestration of melodies that transcended the physical world. When asked to explain the nature of his inspiration, he struggled, for to describe the ecstasy of a rising symphony was to reduce it to mere sounds and words. The happiness he experienced in the act of creation was pure, unbounded, and lived — a treasure that lost power when subjected to description.

Even in daily life, Stendhal’s insight holds. A parent holding a newborn, a lover sharing a quiet glance, a traveler witnessing a sunset — these moments resist narrative. To describe them in words can flatten their brilliance, for language is only a shadow of sensation, a mere approximation of experience. Happiness, in its truest form, is felt with the heart and sensed with the soul, not cataloged in memory or conveyed to others. The attempt to narrate joy often diminishes it, reducing a living flame to smoke on the page.

This reflection also serves as a reminder of the fleeting and precious nature of happiness. It cannot be hoarded, possessed, or endlessly recounted. Its beauty lies in its impermanence, in its ability to strike without warning, and to depart without notice. To attempt to describe it is to freeze a moment that is meant to move, to trap a river that is meant to flow. In this way, Stendhal teaches that joy, like the wind or sunlight, is to be experienced fully and presently, rather than dissected or explained.

The lesson, therefore, is to honor happiness in its immediacy. Seek to live fully in moments of joy without feeling the need to document or narrate them. Let laughter, love, and serenity wash over you, savoring them in the heart rather than attempting to capture them for memory or others. By doing so, the soul preserves their vitality, and the happiness retains its power, mystery, and richness.

So, my child, carry Stendhal’s wisdom as a guide: do not cling to happiness as though it were a possession, nor attempt to explain it as though words could contain it. Experience it, treasure it, and let it dwell within the depths of your being, unspoiled by analysis or exposition. In this way, happiness remains eternal in the moment, vibrant and unbound, a luminous gift that the heart alone can truly know.