Today is the 200th anniversary of the death of Jane Austen, at age 41. Her novels have had a lasting impact on the world of literature and have inspired countless fans as well as quite a few books about them and her. Since I wrote this piece, we’ve seen even more Austen-inspired books, essays, celebrations, and so on, come into being. (See below for a link to Signature’s “Essential Guide to Jane Austen,” as well as two fun and free printables.)

In remembrance of Miss Austen, here are nine quotes from her books related to happiness:

From Mansfield Park:

“There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere.”

“A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.”

“There is nothing like employment, active indispensable employment, for relieving sorrow. Employment, even melancholy, may dispel melancholy.” 

From Sense and Sensibility:

 “I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.”

“What have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness?” “Grandeur has but little,” said Elinor, “but wealth has much to do with it.”

“Elinor, for shame!” Said Marianne. “Money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it...” 

From Northanger Abbey:

“[I]t is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible.”

From Emma:

“Why not seize the pleasure at once?—How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!”

 “Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common.” 

From Pride and Prejudice:

 “I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness.” 

Reading Jane Austen makes me happy—it’s a simple pleasure I haven’t indulged in for quite some time. I might choose Mansfield Park or Northanger Abbey to read next, because I’m not as familiar with them as I am with Pride and Prejudice or Emma (my two favorites).

Do you have a favorite Jane Austen novel?

Signature's free, downloadable “Essential Guide to Jane Austen”

Jane Austen quote printables

Jane Austen-themed printable bookmarks

A few weeks ago, a good friend and I indulged in the deliciously decadent simple pleasure of going to see Wonder Woman on a Friday afternoon. Our intention was nothing more than being together and having fun while most of the rest of the world was at work.

As we watched the movie, sharing popcorn and sipping from our water bottles, something surprising happened. We both teared up.

Wha--?

We walked out of the theater, both a little stunned by how entertaining and empowering the movie felt, and by our own reactions to it. Since then, I’ve pondered my (our) teary response to the movie. What affected us so much?

And then to my surprise, I found we were not alone in our tears. Many, many women were being affected this way. I found the No Man’s Land scene the most moving, but other women were moved to tears by the scenes of the Amazons training or fighting on their home island, Themiscyra. Each story I’ve read about a woman crying during Wonder Woman has been a little different, but mainly they’ve focused on the concept of representation—having a role model up on screen who is unabashedly feminine and powerful.

The character of Diana Prince/Wonder Woman is not a damsel in distress, a sidekick, an afterthought, or a love interest. She’s the main event, and she is inspiring. She’s strong, brave, loving, and purposeful. She doesn’t wait, she acts. She doesn’t waffle, she decides, and when she acts, she does so in the service of others. That’s a pretty darn good role model, and one that is larger than life. One I wish I’d had when I was growing up.

I’m not what I think of as brave, or even assertive. I grew up in a culture that didn’t encourage those qualities in women, and I’m shy by nature. Even though I knew strong and capable women, they tended to stay in the background, not lead the way. Would I have been a more courageous, outgoing person with an example like Diana Prince to emulate? I don’t know, but I agree with the woman who said, “I wish I could go back in time and watch it with 8-year-old me.” Sometimes you have to see the example—to be made aware of the possibility—before you can emulate it.

Now I realize this is all in the context of a fictional superhero movie. I realize our decisions and actions in real life can be more emotionally fraught and tricky to navigate than No Man’s Land, especially when we’re not Amazons equipped with magical shields. Even so, I’ve found myself thinking of Diana more than once when I face problems in my day-to-day life. Would Wonder Woman be fazed by the challenges of redesigning my blog, or by not placing (again) in an essay contest? Somehow I doubt it.

So much to my surprise, I’m adding Wonder Woman to my list of role models. I could do worse.

Introduction by Ted Kooser: When we’re on all fours in a garden, planting or weeding, we’re as close to our ancient ancestors as we’re going to get. Here, while he works in the dirt, Richard Levine feels the sacred looking over his shoulder.

Believe This

All morning, doing the hard, root-wrestling

work of turning a yard from the wild

to a gardener’s will, I heard a bird singing

from a hidden, though not distant, perch;

a song of swift, syncopated syllables sounding

like, Can you believe this, believe this, believe?

Can you believe this, believe this, believe?

And all morning, I did believe. All morning,

between break-even bouts with the unwanted,

I wanted to see that bird, and looked up so

I might later recognize it in a guide, and know

and call its name, but even more, I wanted

to join its church. For all morning, and many

a time in my life, I have wondered who, beyond

this plot I work, has called the order of being,

that givers of food are deemed lesser

than are the receivers. All morning,

muscling my will against that of the wild,

to claim a place in the bounty of earth,

seed, root, sun and rain, I offered my labor

as a kind of grace, and gave thanks even

for the aching in my body, which reached

beyond this work and this gift of struggle.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright © 2010 by Richard Levine, from his most recent book of poetry, “That Country’s Soul,” Finishing Line Press, 2010, by permission of Richard Levine and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2011 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

“Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup

of bitterness and hatred.”

—Martin Luther King, Jr

Over the past few days, I’ve been going through each one of the 877 (!) posts on Catching Happiness, to make sure they all transferred properly to the new template. This process has been bittersweet, as I’ve relived highs and lows from the past eight years: milestones in my son’s life; adopting our cat, Prudy; the joyful memories of our dog, Scout, and the deep grief I felt when she died almost two years ago. There have been changes, both longed for and mourned over, dark days of depression and overwhelm, but also days of excitement and exploration. So many simple pleasures and everyday adventures.

I can see how much happier I am when I’m able to let go, to allow these happenings and emotions to flow through my life, rather than cling to them, or try to hurry them along without truly experiencing them. I’m not naturally good at letting go, but I’m getting better with practice. And it’s true—letting go, freedom, happiness—they’re connected in ways I’m just now beginning to understand.

As I get older, I’m having to let go of more and more things I do not want to let go of. I’m not in charge of the world, surprisingly. Some days, I’m barely in charge of myself. But when I do manage to uncurl my fingers and letgoalready, I’m glimpsing a freedom I’ve never experienced before.  It feels good. It feels…happy. And I want more of that.

What have you let go of? What would you like to let go of?

Happy Independence Day to all my American readers!