Inspirational long quote of the whatever word that represents a quantity of time that'd apply best

And now I want to tell you about my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well-read and wise. And his principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, ''If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.''
So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ''If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.''
That’s one favor I’ve asked of you.
Now I’ve got another one, a show of hands. How many of you have had a teacher at any point in your entire education who made you happier to be alive, prouder to be alive than you had previously believed possible? Now please say the name of that teacher out loud to someone sitting or standing near you.
OK? All done? ''If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.''

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That's all by Kurt Vonnegut. I always manage to catch my hero's on Jon Stuart's show a few weeks before they kick the bucket. He's probably the best damn writer I've ever stumbled across, but he's up in heaven now. Hahahahahahaha! I laugh, because I'm a humanist. So was he.
Which means neither one of us believe in a heaven of any sort other than the kind we can make in the here and now and with each other. And that's one line that'll send any humanist into fucking stitches.
And so.
Mr. Finkbeiner (I hope i'm spelling that right) you taught me how to really, really fall in love with music and because of you I'm a jack of all trades with instruments.
And Patterson, by fluke of a half-decent essay you encouraged me to tap tap tap these fingers on these wee little square cunts. Not actual cunts mind yee. Scottish.

And side note to self, read more irvine welsh then take a stab at writing in the scottish accent on me mums side.