Unbridled Happiness Quotes

We think the purpose of a child is to grow up because it does grow up. But its purpose is to play, to enjoy itself, to be a child. If we merely look to the end of the process, the purpose of life is death

We humans absorb a lot of negativity in this world, but dogs are pure joy.

When you see me on the pitch, I will always be smiling, always laughing, always playing jokes. I grew up as somebody who was always laughing. In England, people will tell me that I should not laugh, but you cannot stop me from laughing. It's impossible.

I think, in my life, there've been three times I've broken down into tears on a set because I was happy.

Children show me in their playful smiles the divine in everyone. This simple goodness shines straight from their hearts and only asks to be loved.

I wept because I was re-experiencing the enthusiasm of my childhood; I was once again a child, and nothing in the world could cause me harm.

There's something about the kind of unconditional wild joy of creating that you have with your siblings that I am always trying to get back to.

In all this world there is nothing so beautiful as a happy child.

Happy season of childhood! Kind Nature, that art to all a bountiful mother; that visitest the poor man's hut With auroral radiance; and for thy nursling hast provided a soft swathing of love and infinite hope wherein he waxes and slumbers, danced round by sweetest dreams!

O merry, merry, merry, like only dogs know how to be happy and nothing more, with an absolute shameless nature.

Nothing shines out more than a bride in her most natural state.

Joy is the best of wine.

This was what happiness felt like - this wondrous, miraculous alternative to dread.

We find delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body.

The child's grief throbs against the round of its little heart as heavily as the man's sorrow, and the one finds as much delight in his kite or drum as the other in striking the springs of enterprise or soaring on the wings of fame.

Grace is the celebration of life, relentlessly hounding all the non-celebrants in the world. It is a floating, cosmic bash shouting its way through the streets of the universe, flinging the sweetness of its cassations to every window, pounding at every door in a hilarity beyond all liking and happening, until the prodigals come out at last and dance, and the elder brothers finally take their fingers out of their ears.