There were days when she was very happy without knowing why. She was happy to be alive and breathing, when her whole being seemed to be one with the sunlight, the color, the odors, the luxuriant warth of some perfect Southern day. She liked then to wander alon into strange and unfamiliar places. She discovered many a sunny, sleep corner, fashioned to dream in. And she found it good to dream and to be alone and unmolested.
There were days when she was unahppy, she did not know why --when it did not seem worth while to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead, when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and hmanity like worms struggling blindy toward inevitable annihilation. She could not work on such a day, or weave fancies to stir her pulses and warm her blood.
-Adopted from "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin
