''Children, only animals live entirely in the Here and Now. Only nature knows neither
memory nor history. But man -let me offer you a definition - is the storytelling
animal. Wherever he goes he wants to leave behind not a chaotic wake, not
an empty space, but the comforting marker-buoys and trail-signs of stories. He
has to go on telling stories. He has to keep on making them up. As long as there's
a story, it's all right. Even in his last moments, it's said, in the split second of a
fatal fall- or when he's about to drown - he sees, passing rapidly before him, the
story of his whole life.''
Happiness is a way of acknowledging your inherent hopelessness in the face of death. It is the first gasp of air you breath in once you have come out of the depths of despair. Conscious of the inevitable existence in a physical universe and the dreary wait that it entails, and yet without any deliberate motive to end it, you simply don't despair. Death inflicts happiness.
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