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At one time, we might have had plans for happiness on an epic scale: we might have wanted to be happy ‘forever’. Now we are satisfied if no further disaster strikes us before nightfall. We might once have sought out ever-increasing fame and power. Now we have been inducted into how quickly things can fall apart and won’t take a quiet day for granted ever again. As newly failed beings, we may turn into people with an acute eye for small pleasures: a lemon on a windowsill, some clouds silhouetted by the evening sun, a fig, a piece of chocolate, a hot bath, a chat with a funny friend.
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