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"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.
From the article Don referenced: “It seems to me that the only people who really want to live forever are those who are unable to find joy in the lives they’re living now.”
Daniel Klein, in his book Travels With Epicurus, addresses these issues from a personal perspective (often with congenial self-deprecating humor) as he enters his 70s – eschewing both the frantic (and often cosmetic) “forever-youngness” of some of his friends and the countervailing attempt by some to grind toward a longevity that promises a severely diminished quality of life, by paradoxically foregoing enjoyment now. Klein may not always be a “strict” Epicurean, but I thoroughly enjoyed (and related to) his book – through two readings now. 
Don How does tagathon relate to telos?
Artists' renderings can certainly evoke a mood. Here is a painting of Zeno of Citium (I couldn't find the artist) and Genevra Catalano's Epicurus:
There seem to be SO MANY specific Greek and Latin words that get chopped down to just "happy" in English.
An interesting anecdote on translation: I read once that Martin Buber’s and Franz Rosenzweig’s translation of the Torah from Hebrew into German was much longer than the original – because they wanted to capture all the nuances of the highly polysemous Hebrew! No "chopping down" for them! 
"In the Latin Vulgate, each of these blessings begins with the word beātī, which translates to "blessed" (plural adjective). The corresponding word in the original Greek is μακάριοι (makarioi), with the same meaning. Thus "Blessed are the poor in spirit" appears in Latin as beātī pauperēs spīritū. The Latin noun beātitūdō was coined by Cicero to describe a state of blessedness and was later incorporated within the chapter headings written for Matthew 5 in various printed versions of the Vulgate."
I recalled having seen English translations that rendered μακάριος as “happy” – including in the beatitudes. The two I found are Young’s Literal Translation (1898) and the Good News Translation by the American Bible Society (1976).
"Beatitudo" from Wiktionary: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/beatitudo.
"Happiness" is not incorrect, but well-being is better.
For myself, I find "happiness" to be fine -- and something I understand (for myself). If I want to clarify, I say "happy well-being." I don't think that's entirely redundant.
People, were talking the late 1700s here. Grammar is not what it used to be.
Absolutely. Not to flog a trivial point to death, but Latin also has/had comparative and superlative forms of perfectus:
https://www.latin-is-simple.com/en/vocabulary/adjective/6667/?h=perfectus
I haven’t gone back through the thread, so I might be rehashing a bit. My last impression was that “perfect” is generally taken as an absolute abstract ideal, an attachment to which could easily deter one from pragmatically seeking the attainable “merely good” or “good enough.” But then I recalled the words from the preamble to the U.S. Constitution: “in order to form a more perfect union.” It turns out that “perfect” has not necessarily been confined to that absolute sense –
“A few usage guides still object to the use of comparison words such as more, most, nearly, almost, and rather with perfect on the grounds that perfect describes an absolute, yes-or-no condition that cannot logically be said to exist in varying degrees. The English language has never agreed to this limitation. Since its earliest use in the 13th century, perfect has, like almost all adjectives, been compared, first in the now obsolete forms perfecter and perfectest, and more recently with more, most, and similar comparison words: the most perfect arrangement of color and line imaginable. Perfect is compared in most of its general senses in all varieties of speech and writing. After all, one of the objectives of the writers of the U.S. Constitution was ‘to form a more perfect union.’” https://www.dictionary.com/browse/perfecter
And : https://strategiesforparents.com/is-it-correct-…-perfect-union/
And Wiktionary includes the understanding of “excellent” for the Latin “perfectus”: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/perfectus#Latin. Similarly from https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=perfect.
Just for interest … 
