Quotes About Joy

You gotta be, like, a professional hippie. You need to make music because you love it.

she spun round to face him, suddenly alight with happiness—a lovely feeling, she thought bemusedly, like going out of doors very early on a summer morning or going home after a hard week's work and opening the kitchen door and seeing her mother—a lovely complete feeling in which content and delight and joy were nicely mixed.

Do you ever find yourself bursting into a sort of lunatic laughter at the sheer prettiness of things?

There is something dead about a lawn which has never been shadowed by the swift silhouette of a dancing kitten.

Ramona was filled with the glory of losing her first tooth and love for her teacher. Miss Binney had said she was brave! This day was the most wonderful day in the world! The sun shone, the sky was blue, and Miss Binney loved her.

Life, Henry discovered, was suddenly so full of interesting things to do that he rode his bicycle through a pile of autumn leaves in the gutter just for the joy of hearing them crackle. "Clank, clank!" Ramona yelled after him. "Clank, clank!" answered Henry.

were poking a little fun at Ramona. "Yes, ma'am!" said her father, and saluted as if she were somebody important. This time Ramona had to laugh.

Clank, crash, clank. Ramona forgot about her father being out of a job, she forgot how cross he had been since he gave up smoking, she forgot about her mother coming home tired from work and about Beezus being grouchy lately. She was filled with joy.

She felt good from making a lot of noise, she felt good from the hard work from walking so far in her tin can stilts, she felt good from calling a grown-up pieface and from the triumph of singing backwards from ninety-nine to one. She felt good from being out after dark with the rain on her face and the streetlights shining down on her.

Tiddlywinks, tiddlywinks, I want to play tiddlywinks, chanted Ramona, shaking her head back and forth.

carpet tickling the bottoms of their feet and their nosegays

She was often excited. She liked to be excited.

The book I read said ten is the nicest age of growing up. It said ten-year-olds are pleasant and agreeable

Hello, you old dog," Henry said. "You can't have my ice cream cone.

She was happier than she had been in a long time.

If there's one thing the AT teaches, it is low-level ecstasy—something we could all do with more of in our lives.

We were idiots really, but awfully happy, too.

What a joy walking is. All the cares of life, all the hopeless, inept fuckwits that God has strewn along the Bill Bryson Highway of Life, suddenly seem far away and harmless, and the world becomes tranquil and welcoming and good. And to walk with old friends multiplies the pleasure a hundredfold.

We enjoy not only the privilege of existence, but also the singular ability to appreciate it and even, in a multitude of ways, to make it better.

It was always Christmas at my grandparents' house, or Thanksgiving, or the Fourth of July, or somebody's birthday. There was always happiness there.

And what a joy it is to walk in it. England and Wales have 130,000 miles of public footpaths, about 2.2 miles of path for every square mile of area.

What a joy it is to arrive after dark at a snug-looking house, its windows filled with welcoming light, and know that it is yours and that inside is your family.

A Midsummer Night's Dream remains an enchanting work after four hundred years, but few would argue that it cuts to the very heart of human behaviour. What it does do is take, and give, a positive satisfaction in the joyous possibilities of verbal expression.

What a joy walking is. All the cares of life, all the hopeless, inept fuckwits that God has strewn along the Bill Bryson Highway of Life, suddenly seem far away and harmless, and the world becomes tranquil and welcoming and good.