Joy's recollection is no longer joy, while sorrow's memory is sorrow still

The memory of joy is no longer joy; the memory of pain is pain still.

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment -- but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of today, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined

There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away