There are six billions of people in the world, and all of them have their kinds of happiness. They have many sorts of happiness, I'm sure. There's the happiness that comes from the relief of pain, or at least the sense of loss. There's the happiness that comes from a sense of discovery. There's the happiness that comes from the feeling of having found the world is more wonderful than you thought it was. There's the happiness that comes from feeling like the world is growing more wonderful as you watch it. There's the happiness which comes from discovering that there are other people that you want to discover and who want to discover you. There's the happiness that leaves you leaping into puddles in the rain while giggling with abandon.
There's the happiness that comes from discovering there's someone special when you didn't expect to see anyone that way. There's the happiness that comes from touching that person, and from knowing you can touch that person, and that person is happy in the same wonderful and multifaceted ways that you are. There's the happiness from feeling like you're still holding that person even when you're away, when you're temporarily separated and will return to communicating in the ways that you first met, and that up until now seemed to be quite satisfactory. After all, that's how you grew that sort of happiness. And there's the happiness of realizing that there must be more people in the world who feel this intensely happy, and that you're happy for them for sharing that feeling.
There is also the sort of happiness which causes you to miss your bus stop, and which leaves you walking a mile and three quarters back up the US Route after sunset, but feeling so wonderfully giddy that it's a joy to do.
Trivia: English astronomer Richard A Proctor's 1867 map of Mars named five items for William Rutter Dawes (Dawes Continent, Dawes Ocean, Dawes Sea, Dawes Strait, and Dawes Forked Bay). In his 1871 version Dawes is named only twice. Source: Planets and Perception, William Sheehan.
Currently Reading: They Walked Like Men, Clifford Simak.