"There stole over me that mood of serene exaltation in which everything seems good and rapturous, the world and its human beings; that mood in which one has an urge to embrace every tree and stroke its bark as though it were the flesh of a loved one; in which one longs to enter every house, to sit down by the side of its unknown occupants and unburden oneself to them; in which one's own breast is filled to bursting point, and one's emotions are too much for one, in which one would like to open one's heart, to give lavishly of oneself--to spend and squander some of the superabundance of one's happiness."
--Stefan Zweig, Beware of Pity
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