The unhappy man at the bar thought he could become happy just by writing “I am happy” over and over again. He wrote “I am happy” over and over again. On napkins. On coasters. The back of checks and tabs. But still he was not happy. He did not feel any happier. He not believe he was becoming happier. The only thing that made him happy was the thought that by writing “I am happy” he would become happy. So, properly speaking, the only thing that made him happy was hope. The hope that writing “I am happy” would make him happy, made him happy.