Quotes About Joy

I can become someone else, not out of pressure and desperation, but merely because a new life sounds fun or interesting or joyful.

I've got so many blessings in my life.

There may be times in a girl's life when it's better to be boyless, but there's no need to be joyless. Or toyless.

And when like her, O Saki, you shall passAmong the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,And in your joyous errand reach the spotWhere I made One—turn down an empty Glass!

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and ThouBeside me singing in the Wilderness—Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

Happiness and virtue rest upon each other the best are not only the happiest, but the happiest are usually the best.

I saw and loved.

I think that no matter how old or infirm I may become, I will always plant a large garden in the spring. Who can resist the feelings of hope and joy that one gets from participating in nature's rebirth?

I have given up considering happiness as relevant.

It's amazing. I can't believe how brilliant the whole thing is - my daughter, Georgia, is just wonderful.

Wind of Inspiration, Creative Spirit of God, teach me not to forget that you come always as gift. Remind me always to be ready to receive and romance and dance with joy wherever and whenever you visit, or risk that you may move on without me. May I ever be sensitive to your gentle breezes and willing to soar with your wild winds.

Great God of our salvation, Thee We love, we worship, we adore; Our refuge on times's changeful sea, Our joy on heaven's eternal shore.

Lord, crown our faith's endeavor with beauty and with grace, till, clothed in light forever, we see thee face to face: a joy no language measures; a fountain brimming o'er; an endless flow of pleasures; an ocean without shore.

Writing becomes a form of protest against the incontestable ravages of time. The poet takes revenge on mortality, defeating cruelty and saving what she can by thinking the unthinkable and presiding over her own creation. The joy of writing stands against the bitter knowledge of just how much of the world cannot be controlled outside the work of art. This is the art of poetry trying to kill time. "Probably

It is not the quantity of the meat but the cheerfulness of the guests which makes the feast.

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon.

Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee! We think no Birds so happy as we! Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill! We think so then, and we thought so still!

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.

He had gone to several universities . . . and had found only curves and credits. He had become drunk on the idea of God and found only theology. He had risen several times on the subtle and powerful wings of lust, expectant of magnificence, achieving only discharge. A few times he had extended friendship with palpitating hope, only to find that no one quite knew what he had in mind. His solitude now was the result of his metabolism, that constant breathing in of joy and exhalation of sadness.

Happiness is not something that happens to people but something that they make happen." His research shows that people are happiest in a state he has named "flow." In a state of flow, you are one with what you are doing. Children know flow well. They call it play. Play is one of the childhood roots of adult happiness. But there are others—four others, to be exact—in the schema I outline in this book.

Then the pernicious charm of Italy worked on her, and, instead of acquiring information, she began to be happy.

From the freedom to explore comes the joy of learning. From knowledge acquired by personal initiative arises the desire for more knowledge. And from mastery of the novel and beautiful world awaiting every child comes self-confidence. The growth of a naturalist is like the growth of a musician or athlete: excellence for the talented, lifelong enjoyment for the rest, benefit for humanity.

Augustus wasn't driving the wagon very fast because he had his family together again and all time was now spread out before him over the valley and the mountains forever and ever.

And he glanced down at Mercy beside him, and saw in her face such radiant goodness, such a calm certainty, that it seemed to him that if he could only be with her all his life, he should know a love, and happiness, and peace that he had never known before.