But somewhere from the 19th century onward, more artists began seeing happiness as meaningless, phony or, worst of all, boring, as we went from Wordsworth's Daffodils to Baudelaire's Flowers of Evil.
但从19世纪某个时间点开始，更多的艺术家开始认为幸福毫无意义，是虚假的，最糟糕的是有人认为它很无趣，就像我们从华兹华斯的《咏水仙》到波德莱尔的《恶之花》中读到的一样。
The happiness of others as their own happiness and flowers dedicated to others, the thorns to yourself!
把别人的幸福当做自己的幸福，把鲜花奉献给他人，把棘刺留给自己！
Youth, such as flowers, love is a fruit that allows you to possess oneself of, this is happiness.
青春如花束，爱情是果实，允许你占为己有，这就是幸福。
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