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Secret Joy


Secret Love

Doris Day

Once I had a secret love
That lived within the heart of me
All too soon my secret love
Became impatient to be free

So I told a friendly star
The way that dreamers often do
Just how wonderful you are
And why I'm so in love with you

Now I shout it from the highest hills
Even told the golden daffodils
At last my heart's an open door
And my secret love's no secret anymore

C.S. Lewis once wrote that hell might be not having anyone to tell how happy you are.

Joy explodes: a bomb, a flood, a hurricane. It is loud and shatters all known silences of the mind and heart; it sounds out hollow all that stands and shimmers and glows in projected glory--and are shattered under the blow of joy.

Happiness is a nimble child carrying a hammer.

But happiness, too, wishes to build. And so it gathers itself, takes its time, pretends to be patient. Like a storm which gathers itself over silent and distant waters.

When at last it unleashes its fury, joy becomes indifferent to whatever it may destroy: your past joy, your present woes, even your highest hopes. Down they crumble: they were not built to stand its invisible winds. Men were never meant to be happy. Just look at their faces: they need muscles to smile.

Never undermine a happy man. The worm has always been in his heart.

O my friends, I tell you my highest hope: that you too may suffer the destruction of joy! Joy is this madness, it is this lightning!

May you too learn how to walk on its rope backwards and blind. May you too be undermined.

Watch me explode! Watch me suffer its blow!--that I may once again have to choose between joy and despair, so that I may once again decide whether to live or to die.

You just pray that I do not choose the latter.



  1. Glad to know that you're joyful again (=

  2. but perhaps--to the contrary. Well, no matter: they are all the same.

    Hope all's well on your side, too, yvaughn.


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