Everybody knows, that the sweetest thing you'll ever see, in the whole wide world is a happy girl

I asked her if she was unhappy; she says it is not a question of happiness. She says she remembers another thing about when she was young - she remembers when the world was full of wonder - when life was a strand of magic moments strung together, a succession of mysteries revealed, leaving her feeling as though she was a trance. She remembers back when all it took to make her feel like she was a part of the stars was to simply talk about things like death and life and the universe. She doesn't know how to reclaim that sense of magic anymore.

Maybe happiness didn’t have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures. Wearing slippers and watching Miss. Universe contest Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little up ticks-the traffic signal that said “Walk” the second you got there-and down ticks-the itchy tag at the back of your collar-that happened to every person in the course of a day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day. Maybe it didn’t matter if you were a world-famous heartthrob or a painful geek. Maybe it didn’t matter if your friend was possibly dying. Maybe you just got through it. Maybe that was all you could ask for.

I want to be remembered as the girl who always smiled, the one who brightened up your day even if she couldn’t brighten up her own.

Those who say sunshine brings happiness have never danced in the rain.

She was a girl who knew how to be happy even when she was sad, and that's important, you know.