The science shows everyone IS a psychological hedonist , and the science is what is empirically known. He or she may deny the science, like a creationist denying evolution, but that's what's actually true.
Or the Stoic denying that feeling pleasure at her accomplishments (a good self-pat on the back?) guides her pursuit of virtue?
“I lay open the mysteries of science; I expose the beauties of art; I call the graces and the muses to my aid; the song, the lyre, and the dance. … I grant that I do not look to make men great, but to make men happy.”
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The welcoming, freeing and encouraging therapy of the Garden, wherein perfect adherence to some set of self-binding rules is not requisite – versus the duty- and rule-binding severity of the Stoa, wherein even taking pleasure in one’s accomplished virtue is suspect. (And its heir, the duty-based Kantian morality I I so deeply imbibed.)
The Stoa: “First be ‘good’.”
The Garden: “First be well.”
I’ve been thinking lately about the sequential nature of this: What if I indulge in a pleasure now that may result in some pain after – but calculate that the resulting pain (say, feeling over-full after a delicious meal) will be less than the pleasure indulged (say, the taste-pleasure of the meal – one more bite of delicious fare)? Does the pleasure/pain calculus only run one way sequentially?
So somehow we have to set some terms on what is meant at a basic level. Are we talking something short term or much longer?
Both. Behind my bad joke is the point that there are different shades of happiness: like pleasure/pleasantness (on which I think happiness is based – my Epicurean view), it can be both “kinetic” and “katastematic.” And I think we can identify those for ourselves experientially pretty readily, and I associate them with well-being as opposed to ill-being (though we can find happiness in mental pleasure/well-being, even with bodily ill-being – as Epicurus was able to do on his death bed).
For me, then, the problem is one of philosophical parsing (in order to communicate philosophically – not to imply that is a small matter) of something that does not seem problematic at all (to me) experientially. And that is where I think folks like Cicero get lost: they elevate (their) philosophical apparatus over plain experience, and then struggle to fit plain experience into that philosophical apparatus. Epicurus, it seems to me, takes the exact opposite (and natural, reality-based) tack. And that Epicurean tack seems far more relatable to everyday living – and finding eudaimonia therein.
Are we to “Fifty Shades of Eudaimonia” yet? 
To be unhelpfully repetitive, I translate as "happy well-being" -- if I translate at all.
"We must try to make the end of the journey better than the beginning, as long as we are journeying; but when we come to the end, we must be happy and content." (Vatican Saying 48)
Of course, that one I'd hit on right away! (Though, in deference to Don, I might change "happy" to "cheerful".)
ADDENDUM to previous posts: Maybe my thin thread of Jewish heritage (not enough to be a “halachic” – Torah approved – Jew, but enough that could well have sent me to Dachau*) explains my tendency to want to argue multiple possible alternative points to any side. But I think that Epicurus’ insistence on multiple possible causes for any effect ( with the possibility of “over-determination”) goes a long way to cover that … 
[* My great grandfather on my paternal side married a Catholic woman: and so all their offspring became de facto Catholic. Not me, though ...]
Rabbinical Judaism is almost radically dialogic. When I was participating in the weekly Talmud study, I early on (because I can’t quite bite my tongue) said about some passage that I disagreed with what someone else in the class had said. I blushed, and apologized – saying something like, “Sorry: I’m a guest here.” To which one of the other students, wagging a finger at me, said: “No, no, no! That’s what you’re supposed to do: argue!”
There is a scene from the film “Yentl”, in which Yentl (in her disguise as a male in order to study Talmud) and her study partner are speaking sotto voce, when the rabbi comes around and asks: “Are you agreeing or disagreeing?” Response: “Oh, we’re disagreeing, Rabbi. We’re disagreeing!” Several Jewish commentators I once read said that whole scene was an accurate reflection of Torah study.
Some of this is based on the highly polysemous nature of classical (Torah) Hebrew. The Talmuds (there are two: the Bavli – Babylonian Talmud – and the lesser Yerushalmi – Jerusalem Talmud) are essentially a history (up to a point) of Rabbinical argument, and commentaries on the original arguments (the Mishnah). Sometimes the arguments appear to be resolved; sometimes not – and sometimes might give the appearance of resolution by truncation. But the Rabbis continue the process …
There is a saying in the Talmud (going from memory): “The real Torah is not complete until you have added your [personal] torah to the Torah.” Thus, there is a dynamic open-endedness that derives from a certain hermeneutical freedom. But there is always argument – and you’re expected to make yours. (“Torah,” here, could almost be translated as “Tao” – as I understand the Greek Logos is rendered in Chinese Bibles. There is the received written Torah – the biblical texts; the expanded interpretive Torah – the Talmuds and Midrash; and the ongoing Torah.)
[Note: I doubt that I would have been welcome in a strict Orthodox congregation. My background, experience – and interpretations – are personal. I spent some years, on my own, delving into various aspects – and Hebrew (though mostly how that language works: never proficient, though I could recognize a few words if I was reading “pointed” text). It was a great pleasure. But I couldn’t find a home there.]
That almost sounds Epicurean in that they take part in the rituals of the community but don't ascribe to the supernatural elements.
Apikorsim. Although Judaism, historically and broadly, is generally more orthopraxic than orthodoxic.
I had an acquaintance who was a Humanistic Jew. I made the slip-of-tongue (quite innocently) of Saying "atheistic Judaism" -- he just laughed and said, "Yeah, pretty much."
Just quickly, off the top of my head: Generally, Conservative Jews keep kashrut -- but, unlike Orthodox Jews ordain women, and have other liberal positions. Reform Jews generally reject the need to keep kashrut, take more of the Torah symbolically or metaphorically. An outward example: in the synagogue I was involved in, Conservative Jews tended to wear the kippah (skull cap/yarmulke) all the time, and maybe the fringed garment (tzitzit); Reform Jews donned the yarmulke only during services, and didn't wear the tzitzit at all. They used different prayer books (siddurim). Theologically, there might not be many real differences -- although Reform Jews (like some neo-Hasidim) seemed to tend more toward some versions of pantheism. Humanistic Jews might reject the notion of a supernatural creator God (or any God) altogether, but still keep some of the Torah-traditions as a community-bonding practice.
That is really simplistic, but the best I can do to give maybe a picture. Wikipedia probably has articles, but these observations are based on my personal experience.
For those who might be interested in pursuing this topic further, I stumbled on this book in Amazon: Epicurus & Apikorsim: The Influence of the Greek Epicurus and Jewish Apikorsim on Judaism Hardcover – August 15, 2007
One of the commentators mentions Humanistic Judaism as a strain that would be apikorsim. In the months I participated, as a graciously welcomed guest, in a local mixed-congregation (Conservative and Reform) synagogue, I got the strong impression that many of the Conservative members viewed Reform Jews pretty much as apikorsim – even as they were often good friends.
I’ve decided to write a poem on Leontion, which will take some painstaking time (as always). The first stanza thus far (in very rough draft, and subject to radical revision):
Leontion, your treatises are lost
and we are left with mere hints of your wit:
a woman scorned for her acuity,
an affront male ego could not acquit.
As I go, I keep doing what research I can on this “lost philosopher,” some quotes from which I am likely to include in my author’s notes. Here is what I’ve got so far, for those interested:
“Leontion was a follower of Epicurus, a renowned philosopher whose school welcomed the unlikeliest of sorts: foreigners, slaves, and—almost more surprisingly—women.”
“Leontion’s criticism of a male thinker left her open to charges of impertinence, but was also viewed as an inspiration by later female writers. On one point everyone seems to have agreed: even the most critical portrayals of Leontion were obliged to acknowledge her intelligence.”
“Leontion did the unthinkable. She criticized the celebrated and unassailable philosopher, Theophrastus, the pupil of Plato and the chief assistant of Aristotle. She was audacious, confident and able to match the great philosopher in a debate.”
“Though all of Leontion’s work is now lost, she is still remembered to this day thanks to her convincing arguments against the famous philosopher Theophrastus, Aristotle’s successor.”
for most important uses I skip over all the poetic versions
Actually, I don't really disagree even though I prefer the poetic versions, and have used both A.E. Stallings (though at times I find her rhymed fourteeners cumbersome) and Frank O. Copley's blank verse version. After all, Lucretius had his own poetic flourishes. But for clarity, I'll refer to Martin Ferguson Smith.
From Joshua 's "spoiler": "Nature is not an abstract capacity, but a generative mother, bringing forth everything that exists. We have, in other words, entered the Lucretian universe."
Natura naturans: "Nature naturing" -- though not necessarily in accordance with Spinoza's philosophical understanding.
I recently came across an alternative possibility:
“Even the derivation of the term is not simple. It probably derives ultimately from the name of the Greek philosopher Epicurus, but Rabbinic literature displays no knowledge of the existence of a Greek philosopher by that name. If it were a semitic term, it would be derived from the root pqr, which by an apparently fortuitous coincidence means licentious, dissolute, or rebellious. This derivation has been maintained by at least one eminent philologist.”
And: “The fact that the Amoraim derive the term Apiqoros from the Hebrew root pqr (Sanhedrin 38b) provides some evidence that they were unaware of Epicureans at all. But on the other hand it may only be an example of self-consciously creative homiletic Rabbinic exegesis.”*
Thus it could be – although Danzig seems to think probably not – originally at least, a “phonetic coincidence.”
* Gabriel Danzig, “Epicurus and Epicureanism in Rabbinic Literature” in the Oxford Handbook of Epicurus and Epicureanism; Philip Mitsis, Editor.
Classical Hebrew is based on such consonantal roots, and words that are so based -- even with the root letters rearranged and with additions -- are etymologically related.
My paternal grandmother Mae, who has been a bit of a hero-character for me, especially in my older years, lived to one month shy of 99 – by living pretty much a-day-at-a-time for pleasure and personal happiness. She would grub by hand in her beloved garden all day – and then don evening attire and an emerald ring (the gems of which she herself smuggled out of a Central American country!), etc., to play bridge with “the Ladies” (all of whom were of higher social status than Mae). Mostly, she enjoyed simple fare – but on holidays could conjure a gourmet feast. [Like me, she tended, when she could afford it, more toward the indulgent pole of the continuum, rather than the ascetic pole.] She was both earthy and elegant, feisty and gracious. I’ve been working on a revision of an older poem I dedicated to her, and may post it on my wall here if and when I finish.
