To live and be free of all physical pain and discomfort

That is Epicurus's definition of happiness.

Well, almost.

But through what had happened in the past Jove had become aware of the true nature of men: that it is not enough for them, as it is for other animals, to live and be free of all physical pain and discomfort; rather, always and in every condition, they crave the impossible, and the less they are afflicted by other evils, the more they torment themselves with their desire.

Leopardi, History of the Human Race. Giovanni Cecchetti, trans.

This is a straight ahead collision between Epicureanism, ancient or modern, and not just Leopardi but any form of pessimism.

The characteristic view of pessimism is that happiness is impossible, even in the short term; suffering and wretchedness are the universal human lot; life is clearly and decisively not worth living for anyone, ever.

In a nutshell, life's a bitch and then you die - except that Schopenhauer and no doubt others follow Indian religion in supposing reincarnation in a whole succession of lives, all equally hideous.

But the pessimists, to my mind, are just so many drama queens, the whole lot of them.

Existentialists and absurdists included, come to that.

Their views differ among themselves and from the pessimists only as twists of the knife.

Dienstag quotes Unamuno from The Tragic Sense of Life, which I read some forty years ago and do not remember, writing "Consciousness is a disease."

Figuratively, of course, though not literally, for animals in general and particularly for humans, consciousness is life itself, is existence.

Death must then be the cure, or the most complete coma.

And yet, though several pessimists have drawn the lesson and actually counseled suicide, none have followed their own advice, that I know of.

Others have let themselves, at least, off with flabby excuses, pleas of cowardice in the face of death, or appeals to instinct.

Think of Schopenhauer or TV characters like Dr. House, Det. Cohle, and perhaps Sherlock Holmes.

Pshaw.

The idea that pessimism and its contrary, optimism, exhaust the alternatives is silly.

To live and be free of significant anguish, physical pain, and discomfort, most of the time, with the usual amusements and occasions of special joy along with satisfactory personal relationships, is an achievable and sufficient happiness for most humans, most of the time.

I do not say all humans.

I do not say all of the time.

I do say that is enough.

More than enough, in fact, to make life eligible, at least, as everyone's life from time to time, for longer or briefer periods, falls short in one way or another.

For that matter, the happiness of many lives is permanently marred or limited in one way or another, while yet those lives continue eligible, it seems, to those who live them.

Certainly, it's a subjective question.

But equally certainly they do not always seem wrong.