Quotes About Joy

Intanto che i bambini ballano nel giardino, sotto il cielo della notte e sotto le luci di Natale, noto qualcosa. Lua e Marie si stanno tenendo per mano. Sembrano così felici, in questo istante, mentre osservano i loro figli, e le luci sulla vecchia casa di eternit. Lua bacia Marie. Un bacio delicato, sulle labbra. Marie ricambia. A volte, le persone sono belle. Non per l'aspetto. Non per quello che dicono. Semplicemente, per quello che sono.

For a few minutes, they all forgot. There was no more yelling or calling out, but they could not contain the small snaches of laughter. They were only humans, playing in the snow, in a house.

If only she could be oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.

I laugh and the stars are watching It's good to be alive

A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship. A

This isn't about words. It's about glowing lights and small things that are big.

It was one of the joys of childhood.

Anhelaba volver a la inconsciencia de entonces, a sentir tanto amor sin saberlo y a confundirlo con las risas y el pan untado con poco más que el aroma de la mermelada.

God, there was such joy and fear there, such brilliant commotion.

Much of my crying is for joy and wonder rather than for pain. A trumpet's wailing, a wind's warm breath, the chink of a bell on an errant lamb, the smoke from a candle just spent, first light, twilight, firelight. Everyday beauty. I cry for how life intoxicates. And maybe just a little for how swiftly it runs.

It was Don Paolo's birthday and all the people of the village were gathered in the piazza to celebrate him. The band played, the wine flowed, the children danced, and, as he stood for a moment alone under the pergola, a little girl approached the the beloved priest. But Don Paolo, are you not happy? she asked him. Of course I am happy, he assured the little girl. Why, then, aren't you crying?

Heaven, envious of our joys, is waxen pale; And when we whisper, then the stars fall down To be partakers of our honey talk. (Dido, Queen of Carthage 4.4.52-54)

To be modern is to find ourselves in an environment that promises us adventure, power, joy, growth, transformation of ourselves and the world – and, at the same time that threatens to destroy everything we have, everything we know, everything we are.

L'única resposta contra la mort és una vocació implacable per ser feliç. La única respuesta contra la muerte es una vocación implacable por ser feliz.

Acabaré la carta amb una cita que em va encantar quan la vaig llegir per primer cop, fa molts anys. És de Montesquieu, que va tenir una vida tan afortunada, o una filosofia de vida tan magnífica, com per poder dir: «Je n'ai jamais eu de chagrin qu'une heure de lecture n'ait dissipé» (No he tingut mai cap pena que una hora de lectura no hagi dissipat). Quina sort, la de Montesquieu!

The Kankakee was stirring with life. The birds were making a joyful noise from every tree and bush. It seemed as if a pail of musical notes had been tossed into the air to spill around Millie along with the sunshine. Millie added her whistle to the symphony, but the birds -- harsh critics that they were -- refused to sing along and remained silent until she stopped.

Laughter is the highest form of prayer.

Every experience that's part of your best destiny is beautiful to your soul.

HERE'S HOW MY OXFORD DICTIONARY DEFINES IT: "The spasmodic utterance, facial distortion, shaking of the sides, etc., which form the instinctive impression of mirth." To me this sounds like the array of symptoms caused by a lethal virus, but it's actually a description of one of the best things life has to offer: laughter. With certain exceptions, the Joy Diet requires you to do it at least thirty times a day.

instead of clinging to me for support, he was holding me up, embracing me, trying to help me trust that everything around us—the dolphins, the birds, the sun, the sky, the whole vast, blue Atlantic—was there to bring us joy. I think he may be right.

Be well, my dear one, be safe, my love, live in joy and peace, sweet friend. Then

The only writer who gives me unfeigned pleasure is P.G. Wodehouse. And even him I find a bit heavy. He takes a lot out of me. Scratching my hair, with soft whistles, with lips aquiver, I frown over Sunset at Blandings.

Turning away from a flight from death, you see a horizon of opportunity that puts you in a state of anticipatory resoluteness with solicitous regard for others that makes your life seem like an adventure perfused with unshakeable joy.

It is cheerful to God when you rejoice or laugh from the bottom of your heart.