No single, individual moment is in and of itself unendurable.

The entire ball game, in terms of both the exam and life, was what you gave attention to vs. what you willed yourself to not.

This is nourishing, redemptive we become less alone inside.

When a solipsist dies ... everything goes with him.

Like most North Americans of his generation, Hal tends to know way less about why he feels certain ways about the objects and pursuits he's devoted to than he does about the objects and pursuits themselves. It's hard to say for sure whether this is even exceptionally bad, this tendency.

We're not keen on the idea of the story sharing its valence with the reader. But the reader's own life "outside" the story changes the story.

The truth is that the heroism of your childhood entertainments was not true valor. It was theatre. The grand gesture, the moment of choice, the mortal danger, the external foe, the climactic battle whose outcome resolves all--all designed to appear heroic, to excite and gratify and audience. Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reality--there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand?Here is the truth--actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.