An affair wants to spill, to share its glory with the world. No act is so private it does not seek applause.
John UpdikeLife is like an overlong drama through which we sit being nagged by the vague memories of having read the reviews.
John UpdikeHope bases vast premises on foolish accidents, and reads a word where in fact only a scribble exists.
John UpdikeWhat other sport holds out hope of improvement to a man or a woman over fifty? True, the pros begin to falter at around forty, but it is their putting nerves that go, not their swings. For a duffer like [me], the room for improvement is so vast that three lifetimes could be spent roaming the fiarways carving away at it, convinced that perfection lies just over the next rise. And that hope, perhaps, is the kindest bliss of all that golf bestows upon its devotees.
John Updike