Vance Joy Quotes

I will be glad to go. There is no poetry here. It is as I have always set forth: joy comes of its own free will; it cannot be belabored.

I never knew so much joy could also hurt so badly. How does one heart have room for both? Unsure

On our particular mission, senior marines met with local school officials while the rest of us provided security or hung out with the schoolkids, playing soccer and passing out candy and school supplies. One very shy boy approached me and held out his hand. When I gave him a small eraser, his face briefly lit up with joy before he ran away to his family, holding his two-cent prize aloft in triumph. I have never seen such excitement on a child’s face. I don’t believe in epiphanies. I don’t believe in transformative moments, as transformation is harder than a moment. I’ve seen far too many people awash in a genuine desire to change only to lose their mettle when they realized just how difficult change actually is. But that moment, with that boy, was pretty close for me. For my entire life, I’d harbored resentment at the world. I was mad at my mother and father, mad that I rode the bus to school while other kids caught rides with friends, mad that my clothes didn’t come from Abercrombie, mad that my grandfather died, mad that we lived in a small house. That resentment didn’t vanish in an instant, but as I stood and surveyed the mass of children of a war-torn nation, their school without running water, and the overjoyed boy, I began to appreciate how lucky I was: born in the greatest country on earth, every modern convenience at my fingertips, supported by two loving hillbillies, and part of a family that, for all its quirks, loved me unconditionally. At that moment, I resolved to be the type of man who would smile when someone gave him an eraser. I haven’t quite made it there, but without that day in Iraq, I wouldn’t be trying. The

I love this song, can you turn it up?” I reached and turned the dial up on the Vance Joy song “Red Eye.” Adam bobbed his head to the music. At the stoplight I looked over at him. He was wearing the black beanie my brother had given him, his black Wayfarers, and the hospital gown. I laughed. He turned to me and smiled. “What?” he said. “You’re cute.” “Oh yeah? Wanna fool around?” He grinned. I was glad that Adam couldn’t see my eyes welling up behind my sunglasses. The car behind us honked. I hit the gas and my car lurched forward from the intersection. “How much time do we have?” I asked. “What? Are you serious?” “Yes, Adam, I am serious.” He was having a good day. He reached for my phone. “We have like an hour and a half before Leah freaks out.” I knew I was taking a big chance, but how could I say no to him? There was so much joy in him that day just because he got to go to the drive-thru at In-N-Out. “Okay.” I glanced over at him and flattened my lips. “You better not have a seizure on me.” “I can’t think of a better place to have a seizure. Although I can see how that wouldn’t be much fun for you.” I laughed hysterically. “Oh man, I didn’t mean literally on me; I meant on my watch.” “Well, Charlotte, I don’t have much control over that, but I’ll try. You know what helps?” “What?” “Alcohol.” “Really?” As we passed the Four Seasons he said, “Pull in here.” “This is too expensive, Adam.” “What? Are you crazy?” The energy in the car was tangible. “This may be the last time I ever go to a hotel with a girl. I’m paying. I have a ton of money. Come on, Charlotte, please?” His mood was instantly lighter than it had been in several days. “Okay.” I did a U-turn and pulled into the driveway of the hotel.

Mom cared deeply about enterprises of the mind. Nothing brought her greater joy than when I finished a book or asked for another. Mom was, everyone told me, the smartest person they knew. And I believed it. She was definitely the smartest person I knew.

You have to remember that love is not an emotion; it is a choice. Before God created us, He chose to love us and considered that love worth the anguish it would cause Him. Even beyond that, I think God made this choice with joy and not with dread.

I feel a bit like my grandmother. She lived through the Great Depression and some real hard times. Once you’ve been through that, it stays with you for a long time. I’m not sure it ever leaves really. So, I do feel joy now, but there’s still that nagging feeling that it might all go away. Even later in life when my grandmother knew there was really no possibility of her going hungry, she always had this thing about food. With Tesla, I decided to raise a huge amount of money just in case something terrible happens.” Musk

I was so happy that if I had died at that moment, I would have done so smiling. But that’s the problem with elated, unfamiliar joy: you start to wonder if it’ll last, and that thought inevitably leads you down the dark path of how this joy is even possible.

If you're waiting on your life, you'll never go.

We’re all gonna die trying to get it right, so aim high, and aim true. —Vance Joy

The two connoisseurs congratulated each other, then Wingo returned to the Glicca. Professor Gill closed and locked the door. He placed the helmet on a counter. To right and left he arranged a golden candelabrum and reverently put flame to the orange candles. From the depths of a cabinet he brought a squat bottle and a goblet. He unsealed the bottle and poured a thick amber liquid into the goblet; then he pulled up a chair, settled himself to the joy of his acquisition. The universe had been opened to him; he was free to leave this frowsty little town of mad sprang-hoppers and, in dignity and pride, return to the cloisters of academia, where his wry anecdotes of life on Mariah would grace many an intimate little dinner party. Bliss!

Myron said that he knew nothing of ‘Hurlothrumbo’, or any other game. “I have noticed that when these games are played, money changes hands. If I played and won, it would give me no pleasure; but if I lost, I would be haunted by remorse. I would also feel foolish.” Schwatzendale showed his crooked grin. “You do not understand the joy of the hunt. To gamble is to play at prehistoric savagery.” “The metaphor is apt,” said Wingo. “The victor is a cannibal, feeding upon the substance of the victim.” “That is the thrust of our instincts!” Schwatzendale explained. “It is the contrast which generates so much triumph — or such tragic despair.” Wingo shook his head. “When Fay gambles, he often forgets what I shall call ‘amour propre’.” He addressed Myron. “I advise against gambling in general and with Fay in particular. He will deprive you of assets so neatly that you will never notice until you grope in your pocket and find not so much as a soiled handkerchief.” “Wingo is correct!” said Schwatzendale. “Given the chance, I will win the trousers from your arse, so that you have not even a pocket for the groping!” “Fay does not exaggerate,” said Wingo somberly. “Only Moncrief the Mouse-rider has beaten him, and Fay still smarts at the recollection.” Schwatzendale clutched his head. “Why must you utter that name? I shall never rest until —” “Until you have played him again, and lost more money, and known more shame?” “Never, never, never!” “Let us hope not,” said Wingo virtuously.

Myron, be good enough to face facts. You have long celebrated the joys and romance of space travel. Now, I am out here in this interminable void and I ask myself: ‘Where is the joy? Where is the romance?’” Myron pointed to the observation port. “Look yonder! Observe the stars. Watch them drifting past. It is the most romantic spectacle of all!” Dame Hester shuddered. “The stars are far away. Space is dark and silent. Out there is where all the dead souls drift and wander.