Happiness

From Oregon Dream:

HANK
Let me try this another way. Where I'm coming from.
When I built this, when I was with your mother
early on, living together, even before we got
married, I was happy. I truly was happy. And so was
she. This is the real issue. She refuses to accept
that she was happy with me. She refuses to accept
that she experienced ecstasy with me. With a man, I
suppose it is. What is it, politically incorrect
for a lesbian to have a past of pleasure with me?
But that's not really what I'm getting at. I was
happy then, truly happy. And you know what I
thought at the time? I thought it would only get
better. I was only 25, my life ahead of me, and
already I knew what happiness was. I knew what
ecstasy was. I knew what passion was. And I had my
life ahead of me. Everything would only get better.
What an incredibly energizing thing to feel as a
young man. Never for a moment did I think that this
was it. This was my allotment of happiness. This
was my share in the universe of ecstasy. After this
ended, there'd be nothing more. It would never get
better. After 25, well, after 27, when the shit hit
the fan, after that, everything that followed would
feel empty in comparison. My life of ecstasy was
over.

CHEYENNE
Dad, it doesn't have to be this way.

HANK
When you're my age, I think you'll see it
differently.

CHEYENNE
God, I hope you're wrong.

HANK
I wish I was wrong, too. But I'm not. When we're
happy, we think we'll always be happy. And we're
always wrong.