Nobody, strictly speaking, is happier on account of his digestion.

He is happy because he is so constituted as to forget all about it.

Nobody really is convulsed with delight at the thought of the ingenious machinery which he possesses inside him; the thing which delights him is simply the full possession of his own human body.

I cannot in the least understand why a good digestion--that is, a good body--should not be held to be as mystic a benefit as a sunset or the first flower of spring.

But there is about digestion this peculiarity throwing a great light on human pessimism, that it is one of the many things which we never speak of as existing until they go wrong.