“Whatever he (Maxim Tortchakov)  looked at, whatever he thought about, it all seemed to him bright, joyous, and happy. He thought about his farming, and thought that it was all going well, that the furnishing of his house was all the heart could desire — there was enough of everything and all of it good; he looked at his wife, and she seemed to him lovely, kind, and gentle. He was delighted by the glow in the east, and the young grass, and his squeaking chaise, and the kite.” 
“The Cossak” by Anton Chekhov

Be delighted. It is not difficult.

One thought on “Delighted

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