The Flower of Happiness grows in the fields of the Poor and in the gardens of the Rich and may be gathered by all who want it and have the will to reach for it. It hangs high up on the Tree of Life though, and many never see it at all. They are so busy digging for gold or weeping over graves, they forget to look up. Even amongst those who do see it many are afraid to pluck it, fearing its beauty and fragrance might injure their souls. Others strive for it; but the rock, on which they stand, is so overlaid with greed and lust that, when the Flower is within their reach, they slip, clutching but a broken stalk.

A few only, with their feet firmly planted on the plane of moderation and their faces turned towards God, gather this wondrous Flower. At moments it may wilt; but the true Flower always revives, and whiffs of its sweetness go to gladden many hearts as they, who have plucked it, walk amongst their fellow-men.