On Happiness #12

"A keen wind that had been hiding itself struck me full in the mouth and raked the hair back horizontal on my head.  I was descending but the white sun rose no higher. It hung over the suspended waves of the hills, an insentient pivot without which the world would not exist.  A small, answering point in my own body flew toward it.  I felt my lungs inflate with the inrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people.  I thought, 'this is what it is to be happy.'" -Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

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