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请作者增加学术词汇的使用，单词拼写做的很好；简单句比重稍微偏高，注意极个别句子错误；层次不清晰，几乎没有使用衔接词；请注意分段。
“Are you happy?” I asked my brother, Lan, one day. “Yes. No. It depends what you mean,” he said. “Then tell me,” I said, “when was the last time you think you were happy?” “April 1967,” he said. It served me right for putting a serious question to someone who has joked his way through life. But Ian’s answer reminded me that when we think about happiness, we usually think of something extraordinary, a pinnacle of sheer delight—and those pinnacles seem to get rarer the older we get. For a child, happiness has a magical quality. I remember making hide-outs in newly cut hay, playing cops and robbers in the woods, getting a speaking part in the school play. Of course, kids also experience lows, but their delight at such peaks of pleasure as winning a race or getting a new bike is unreserved. In the teenage years the concept of happiness changes. Suddenly it’s conditional on such things as excitement, love, popularity and whether that zit will clear up before prom night. I can still feel the agony of not being invited to a party that almost everyone else was going to. But I also recall the ecstasy to dance with a John Travolta look-alike. In adulthood the things that bring profound joy—birth, love, marriage—also bring responsibility and the risk of loss. Love may not last；sex ； isn’t always good； loved ones die. For adults, happiness is complicated. ； My dictionary defines happy as “lucky” or “fortunate,” but I think a better definition of happiness is “the capacity for enjoyment.” The more we can enjoy what we have, the happier we are. It’s easy to overlook the pleasure we get from loving and being loved, the company of friends, the freedom to live where we please, even good health.
