According to Wikipedia, Happiness is an emotional or affective state that is characterized by feelings of enjoyment and satisfaction.

There are a lot of quotes about happiness:

"We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same." Anne Frank.

Is it true that all human beings have the same objective in life and it is seeking happiness? I guess it makes sense. I think we all want to reach happiness, but the definition of happiness differs from one person to another, or as a matter of fact it's the reasons that could make someone happy that differ: for some it’s money, for others it’s love, and the list goes on.

BUT, when will someone be happy ENOUGH?

When something bad happens, some people may go like "I hate my life!", "life is unfair", "I want to die”, “I'm so depressed" and so on ... even wanting to commit suicide! Whenever I log on to my MSN messenger I notice that most of friends' nicknames are depressing ones!!

But when something good happens...they just say "Good!" or "I feel happy" THAT if they even said it...but never satisfied! Never happy enough!

So, again what IS happiness?!!!?!?

Is it just a temporary feeling that doesn't take longer than an hour?

Amy Lowell:

Happiness: We rarely feel it.I would buy it, beg it, steal it,Pay in coins of dripping blood For this one transcendent good.

Why is it, that human beings think that they were born just to be happy? They never accept anything that wouldn't satisfy them! They keep searching and searching for absolute happiness, while in fact, it's not something that could be FOUND. Here are some quotes about happiness that grabbed my attention:

Albert Camus:

You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.

Francoise de Motteville:

The true way to render ourselves happy is to love our work and find in it our pleasure.

Henry David Thoreau:

That man is richest whose pleasures are cheapest.

James Oppenheim:

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet.

John Barrymore:

Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open.

That last one is my favorite =)

I believe that happiness...is in our hands!

Anyone can simply become a happy person just by deciding to be so…

John Milton:

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven.

Everyone in this life has problems. Even if they're major, it's all about the way we deal with them. It's the way we deal with everything that really matters. We all face similar everyday – situations. Some of us may just let go of them, others may act negatively and ruin them, while for others they could be a turning point.

Anyway, to cut it short ... “If only we'd stop trying to be happy we'd have a pretty good time.” (~ Edith Wharton)

It gets harder and harder each time you try to silence to these voices; the voice of your sensible, but imaginative, mind, and the voice of your passionate, yet disturbed, heart. The contradictory thoughts you keep having get very confusing. Because in such time of pain, suffer and distress, it seizes to become a matter of right and wrong. In fact, right then, there is no right or wrong. As is the answer you seek for the question that would never dare to ask.

In such time, I write you my first letter, not knowing nor caring if it’s right or wrong. I just write because I want to. I write the words that keep my mind imagining and my heart beating. I try to draw my metaphors for you to see what I am feeling. But sometimes, words are not enough to draw these feelings; they are so limited by the creativity of our minds that can never be as much as the passion in our feelings.

That’s why every time I try to speak, I stall, and every time I try to find the right words, I don’t. But I don’t know what hurts more, mine or your silence. I listen to it every time we talk. And at a moment of joy and agony, time freezes. And there you can see it coming again and again, silence, mixed with each word we say, try to say or keep to ourselves. But do we speak of the same words?

I can already see that we hear the same words, but I question the ones we can’t listen to. Do they even exist? And what do they say? I know my words, I keep telling them to myself each day, afraid to forget them and lose them in the rush of time. But still, I can’t be sure of what they really mean. And I know I will never be able to understand them, unless you help me to. Are your words the same?

And now, I would end my letter to you, with a smile of hope; a silent smile, so full of words that I cannot explain, nor would I. And I hope you smile as well, and I hope your words wouldn’t fail you the way they did me.