There is nothing novel about trying to become happy. And one can become happy, within certain limits, without any recourse to the practice of meditat… - Sam Harris

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There is nothing novel about trying to become happy. And one can become happy, within certain limits, without any recourse to the practice of meditation. But conventional sources of happiness are unreliable, being dependent upon changing conditions. It is difficult to raise a happy family, to keep yourself and those you love healthy, to acquire wealth and find creative and fulfilling ways to enjoy it, to form deep friendships, to contribute to society in ways that are emotionally rewarding, to perfect a wide variety of artistic, athletic, and intellectual skills — and to keep the machinery of happiness running day after day. There is nothing wrong with being fulfilled in all these ways — except for the fact that, if you pay close attention, you will see that there is still something wrong with it. These forms of happiness aren’t good enough. Our feelings of fulfillment do not last. And the stress of life continues.

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About Sam Harris

Samuel Benjamin Harris (born April 9, 1967) is an American author, philosopher, public intellectual, and neuroscientist, as well as the co-founder and CEO of Project Reason. He is the author of The End of Faith (2004), which won the PEN/Martha Albrand Award for First Nonfiction in 2005 and appeared on The New York Times best seller list for 33 weeks, Letter to a Christian Nation (2006), The Moral Landscape (2010), Lying (2011), Free Will (2012), and most recently Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion (2014).

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Also Known As

Birth Name: Samuel Benjamin Harris
Alternative Names: Samuel Harris
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Additional quotes by Sam Harris

If you just focus on the trees swaying outside the window without distraction, you will see your true face.

And then came the insight that irrevocably transformed my
sense of how good human life could be. I was feeling boundless love for one of my best friends, and I suddenly realized that if a
stranger had walked through the door at that moment, he or she
would have been fully included in this love. Love was at bottom
impersonal — and deeper than any personal history could justify.
Indeed, a transactional form of love — I love you because. . . — now
made no sense at all.

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