Quotes About Joy

When you taste a measure of being able to love and enjoy the people in your life, without having to have any particular response from them, you are tasting bliss. You can move out into life, and you don't have to have your parking ticket stamped by human approval to do it.

You get prettier every day, don't you?" Red said, as he spun the stool. No one called Angela's little girl by her real name. No one could spit it out. Angela had found the name in the family Bible. Apparently, it wanted to stay there. "She's cute as a Dixie cup," Willie said from the service window. "Are you my little Dixie cup?" Red asked, giving her nose a tap. Clapping her hands, the child giggled and squealed. And just like that, Aubrette Orianna Belle was christened Dixie.

If you are not happy on the inside, there's nothing on the outside that will make you happy.

She said something in Kiowa in a happy tone. My name is Ay-ti-Podle, the Cicada, whose song means there is a fruit ripening nearby. She gestured back toward the big bay saddle horse and tossed her hair back. It was as if she wanted to include Pasha in this newfound happiness.

Lascaux was in my time-stream, my ancestry, and Lascaux was the joy and the transport of stories. That's what lasts. It has lasted thirty thousand years.

then laughed and splashed water

Life is full of surprises, good and bad!

During the day she carried her boy, bandaged and fed the wounded, leaving her own festering wounds until night-time when she licked them and nursed them, and remembered the pines and the fish and the river and the ase and the woods and the fire and the blueberries and the smell of cigarette smoke and the loud laughter coming from one male throat.

To live as a child in a world without time – not in infinity, but in eternity, what a joy. To never count your minutes. To just be – in the eternal present. What bliss.

Are you worried? About moving to Russia?" She smiled. "No, mio caro figlio. I'm not worried either." She kissed him. "My lovely, living boy," she said, kissing him between each word. "My hope"—kiss—"my happiness"—kiss—"my love, my life, my joy." Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Light came through the window, trickling morning all over the room. Tatiana Metanova slept the sleep of the innocent, the sleep of restless joy, of warm, white Leningrad nights, of jasmine June. But most of all, intoxicated with life, she slept the exuberant sleep of undaunted youth. She did not sleep for much longer.

A child can teach an adult three things: to be happy for no reason, to always be busy with something, and to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires.

The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.

There is an alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmuted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness.

We danced too wild, and we sang too long, and we hugged too hard, and we kissed too sweet, and howled just as loud as we wanted to howl, because by now we were all old enough to know that what looks like crazy on an ordinary day looks a lot like love if you catch it in the moonlight.

To find joy in work is to discover the fountain of youth.

Many people lose the small joys in the hope for the big happiness.

To serve is beautiful, but only if it is done with joy and a whole heart and a free mind.

Sorrow fully accepted brings its own gifts. For there is alchemy in sorrow. It can be transmitted into wisdom, which, if it does not bring joy, can yet bring happiness.

Nothing is more practical than finding God, That is, than falling in a love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the mornings, What you will do with your evenings, How you spend your weekends, What you read, Who you know, What breaks your heart, And what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.

Here am bound, the scorn of fate; 'Twas a dream that once a state I enjoyed of light and gladness. What is life? 'Tis but a madness. What is life? A thing that seems, A mirage that falsely gleams, Phantom joy, delusive rest, Since is life a dream at best, And even dreams themselves are dreams.

Twas a dream that once a state I enjoyed of light and gladness.

Tis a dream that I in sadness Here am bound, the scorn of fate; 'Twas a dream that once a state I enjoyed of light and gladness. What is life? 'Tis but a madness. What is life? A thing that seems, A mirage that falsely gleams, Phantom joy, delusive rest, Since is life a dream at best, And even dreams themselves are dreams.

You hear the bird's gurgling? Which pleasure! which charm! The field has by me a thousand charms.