To be happy one must be
a) well fed, unhounded by sordid cares, at ease in Zion,
b) full of a comfortable feeling of superiority to the masses of one's fellow men,
and c) delicately and unceasingly amused according to one's taste.
It is my contention that, if this definition be accepted, there is no country in the world wherein a man constituted as I am -- a man of my peculiar weaknesses, vanities, appetites, and aversions -- can be so happy as he can be in the United States. Going further, I lay down the doctrine that it is a sheer physical impossibility for such a man to live in the United States and not be happy.
"On Being an American" is one of my all-time favorites. It really egged me on as a man in my early twenties. It made me feel like I could/should do better than I was doing at the time.