You never know when happiness will strike or what form it may take, but I do believe that

we who come from a strict religious upbringing are at an advantage over you

heathens because even slight pleasure makes us dizzy and actual joy blows our minds.

A coal miner appreciates a field of tulips more than a florist does. I get a thrill

every time my wife of 28 years casually puts her hand on my shoulder in wordless

affection. And this is due to the fact that I didn't kiss a girl until I was 22

years old. I grew up sanctified brethren.

I stared at girls.

I fantasized.

I sat near some girls.

But our lips never met. And when they did I burst into verse. I get pleasure from words, which is

surely due to coming from taciturn people.

So when I happen upon a seed catalog and look through the beans, the names of beans,

Scarlet Rummer, provider, contender,

Gold Rush, Blue Lake,

Tenderet Green, and the corn, the names, Bodasis, Ambrosia Hybrid, Sugar Buns, Abundance, and the Tomatoes Early Girl, Better Boy, Beef Steak, Sweetie, Big Boy, Sunset's Red Horizon, Jubilee, Juliet, Moneymaker, Aunt Ruby's Boy, O Boy, Nebraska Wedding,

Calypso, Abe Lincoln. It's a garden of poetry.

Happiness happened to me a few days ago on a cruise aboard the Queen Mary, which was very

relaxing but relaxation makes me uneasy and I was looking forward to return to New York and then we got

Gussied up one night my wife in a sparkly gown eye on a tucks and red bow tie, and after dinner around 1030,

we proceeded to the grand ballroom where a big band was playing.

The dance floor is the size of a volleyball court

...