While visiting my parents, our discussion turned on the recent death of Elizabeth Taylor. We commented on her glamorous life, her seven husbands, he diamond rings, her beauty (and violet eyes), her fame, wealth and a snippet of a story of a Mexican boy who had asked her and Richard Burton to be his godparents.
My mom summarily commented, “And she was never happy,” while I don’t know how she became an authority on Liz Taylor’s contentment.
Desiree asked, “And what is the secret to happiness?”
“It depends. In each of us there is something that makes us happy. What may make one person happy may not make the next person happy. It is our responsibility to find it. The secret is to find yours.”
My mother is on to something. Could it be that a window is opening?
Dragonfly, Pear, Carnation, and Insect by Joris Hoefnagel
© 1999 J. Paul Getty Trust
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