"I once read a French fairy-tale (...) It was about a pessimist poet who decided to drown himself, and as he went down to the river, he gave away his eyes to a blind man, his ears to a deaf man, his legs to a lame man, and so on, up to the moment when the reader was waiting for the splash of his suicide, but the author wrote that this senseless trunk settled itself on the shore and began to experience the joy of living: la joie de vivre. The joy of being alive."; - G. K. Chesterton, "The Spice of Life"
