The living should smile, for the dead cannot

He smiled like a sun lamp.

He smiles a lot. But I think there might be worms inside him making him smile.

The kindness in his smile seemed infinite.

He smiled at me, and it was not the worried, nervous smile from before, but a smile that meant he was pleased. And I don't remember him ever smiling at me that way again.

I’m really alive! he thought. I never knew it before, or if I did I don’t remember!

The old man smiled. 'I shall not die of a cold, my son. I shall die of having lived.

He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.

Tell him,' the colonel said, smiling, 'that a person doesn’t die when he should but when he can.

Every time a man smiles,—but much more so, when he laughs, that it adds something to this Fragment of life.

The fact of being alive compensated for what life did to one.

He smiled his first smile of the day. He probably allowed himself four.
[...]
He was doing an awful lot of smiling that day. Using up a whole week's supply.

So he nodded, smiled, listened, was happy.

I am alive, he says to himself, I am alive! And life energy surges hotly through him, and delight, and appetite. How good to be in a body - even this old beat-up carcass - that still has warm blood and live semen and rich marrow and wholesome flesh!