With power one can force others to do certain things but there is a world of difference between the action forced and spontaneous action. Image source: 3.bp.blogspot.com/ vicuvus0tw0/uvgxamqmdzi/ak8q/j_5xlvptrb0/s1600/img_6012.jpg in the present age, many people are striving for happiness in sex, fashion, drinks and drugs. These things may help people to forget their worries for a limited period of time but not forever. There is a difference between happiness and what we describe as joy and pleasure.

One a warm day what a glass of cold lemon juice gives you is pleasure because it is a momentary joy. On the other hand happiness is experienced in the mind and is therefore infinitely more powerful. It is love between children and parents, wife and husband, brother and sister, lover and his beloved, the teacher and the student and the master and the servant. Love fills a person with noble feelings: compassion, sympathy, sacrifice, understanding, welfare etc. Love of a mother is so deep and eternal that she can understand even those things which her child doesnt even speak. Neighbour who love and respect one another to have a get together and festive occasions.

Jesus christ, prophet mohammad, gautama buddha, mahavira, guru nanak de and others worked for the welfare and happiness of all. Mother teresa filled many hearts with happiness by her dedicated service to the poor and the needy. There would be no quarrels or divorces between married couples if love is adopted as the guiding principle. There will be no friction between parents and children and no bitterness between friends there will be no exploitation of man by man if all follow the path of love.

If nations of the world follow this principle, there would be no world wars, massacres or widespread destruction. Everywhere they went to the mall, to the game, to movies and shops and the classes that structured their days like a new kind of chronology their fingers were entwined, their shoulders touching, their hips joined in the slow triumphant sashay of love. He drove her car, slept on the couch in the family room at her parents’ house, played tennis and watched football with her father on the big, thirty six inch tv in the kitchen. She went shopping with his mother and hers, a triumvirate of tastes, and she would have played tennis with his father, if it came to it, but his father was dead. I love you, he told her, because he did, because there was no feeling like this, no triumph, no high it was like being immortal and unconquerable, like floating.

It was his mother, calling from the hotel room in boston where she was curled up shacked up? for the weekend with the man she’d been dating. With the storm and all? no, it hadn’t hit boston yet, but she saw on the weather channel that it was on its way. Two seconds after he hung up before she could even hit the start button on the vcr the phone rang again, and this time it was her mother. She was calling from a restaurant, and china could hear a clamor of voices in the background. She was thinking of having jeremy to herself, all night, in the big bed in his mother’s room. They’d been having sex ever since they started going together at the end of their junior year, but it was always sex in the car or sex on a blanket or the lawn, hurried sex, nothing like she wanted it to be.

She kept thinking of the way it was in the movies, where the stars ambushed each other on beds the size of small planets and then did it again and again until they lay nestled in a heap of pillows and blankets, her head on his chest, his arm flung over her shoulder, the music fading away to individual notes plucked softly on a guitar and everything in the frame glowing as if it had been sprayed with liquid gold. She’d been wandering around the kitchen as she talked, dancing with the phone in an idle slow saraband, watching the frost sketch a design on the window over the sink, no sound but the soft hiss of the ice pellets on the roof, and now she pulled open the freezer door and extracted a pint box of ice cream. She was in her socks, socks so thick they were like slippers, and a pair of black leggings under an oversize sweater. Beneath her feet, the polished floorboards were as slick as the sidewalk outside, and she liked the feel of that, skating indoors in her big socks. Come on, jeremy called from the living room, where the maniac rippled menacingly over the pause button. Jeremy’s voice came back at her, a voice in the middle range, with a congenital scratch in it, the voice of a nice guy, a very nice guy who could be the star of a tv show about nice guys: what kind? he had a pair of shoulders and pumped up biceps, too, a smile that jumped from his lips to his eyes, and close cropped hair that stood up straight off the crown of his head. And he was always singing she loved that his voice so true he could do any song, and there was no lyric he didn’t know, even on the oldies station.

American History Term Paper

She scooped ice cream and saw him in a scene from last summer, one hand draped casually over the wheel of his car, the radio throbbing, his voice raised in perfect synch with billy corgan’s, and the night standing still at the end of a long dark street overhung with maples. O.k., he said, and then he was wondering if there was any whipped cream, or maybe hot fudge he was sure his mother had a jar stashed away somewhere, look behind the mayonnaise on the top row and when she turned around he was standing in the doorway. She kissed him they kissed whenever they met, no matter where or when, even if one of them had just stepped out of the room, because that was love, that was the way love was and then they took two bowls of ice cream into the living room and, with a flick of the remote, set the maniac back in motion. It was an early spring that year, the world gone green overnight, the thermometer twice hitting the low eighties in the first week of march. The whole school, even the halls and the cafeteria, smelled of fresh mowed grass and the unfolding blossoms of the fruit trees in the development across the street, and students especially seniors were cutting class to go out to the quarry or the reservoir or to just drive the backstreets with the sunroof and the windows open wide. She was hitting the books, studying late, putting everything in its place like pegs in a board, even love, even that. Look, you’ve already been accepted at your first choice school, you’re going to wind up in the top ten g.p.a.