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                                                 THE  HAPPY  MAN

                                                                      W. Somerset Maugham

                                  It is a dangerous thing to order the lives of others and I have
                            often  wondered  at  the  self-confidence  of  politicians,  reformers  and
                            such like who are prepared to force upon their fellows measures that
                            must  alter  their  manners,  habits  and  points  of  view.  I  have  always
                            hesitated to give advice, for how can one advise another how to act
                            unless one knows that other as well as one knows oneself? Heaven
                            knows, I know little enough of myself: I know nothing of others. We
                            can only guess at the thoughts and emotions of our neighbours. Each
                            one of us is a prisoner in a solitary tower and he communicates with
                            the  other  prisoners,  who  form  mankind  by  conventional  signs  that
                            have not quite the same meaning for them as for himself. And life,
                            unfortunately, is something that you can lead but once; mistakes are
                            often  irreparable, and who am  I that  I should tell this  one and that
                            how he should lead it? Life is a difficult business and I have found it
                            hard enough to make my own a complete and rounded thing; I have
                            not been tempted to teach my neighbour what he should do with his.
                            But there are men who flounder at the journey’s start, the way before
                            them  is  confused  and  hazardous  and  on  occasion,  however
                            unwillingly, I have been forced to point the finger of fate. Sometimes
                            men have said to me, what shall I do with my life? And I have seen
                            myself for a moment wrapped in the dark cloak of Destiny.
                                  Once I knew that I advertised well.
                                  I was a young man and I lived in a modest apartment in London
                            near Victoria Station. Late  one afternoon, when  I was beginning to
                            think that I had worked enough for that day, I heard a ring at the bell.
                            I opened the door to a total stranger. He asked me my name; I told
                            him. He asked if he might come in.
                                  “Certainly.”
                                  I  led  him  into  my  sitting-room  and  begged  to  sit  down.  He
                            seemed  a  trifle  embarrassed.  I  offered  him  a  cigarette  and  he  had
                            some difficulty in lighting it without letting go off his hat. When he
                            had satisfactorily achieved this feat I asked him if I should not put it
                            on a chair for him. He quickly did this and while doing it dropped his
                            umbrella.
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