Even English, the richest language on the planet, is rather lame when it comes to joy. Over and over again, I feel awkward when I am trying to express a bit more than mere satisfaction. Or slightly more than run-of-the-mill happiness. The same few words come up so often that I eventually feel revolted by them all. Fucking words! As I struggle, my anger gathers steam, and soon enough I start feeling that English is serving me perfectly well. And ever better. I can curse to my heart’s content as long as I wish. Without repeating myself, either.

Addendum (December 3, 2015)

At the risk of pushing this point way beyond its bounds, joy is typically a personal sort of sentiment whereas anger is a public one more often than not. Thus it stands to reason that words are sparse on the personal side of the spectrum and ample on its public side. This holds for every language on the planet, no matter how rich. It is plausible that words expressing joy are much fewer than those expressing anger across the board. While the simplest exclamations and moans are often sufficient on the personal side of the spectrum, there are profanities of every imaginable length on its public side. Come to think of it, perhaps we are closer to animals when we express joy than when we express anger. Whence the paucity of words.