I dreamt that I woke up. It's the oldest dream of all, and I've just had it

The spring of 1930 marks the end of a period of grave concern...American business is steadily coming back to a normal level of prosperity.

Love is just a system for getting someone to call you darling after sex.

Grief seems at first to destroy not just all patterns, but also to destroy a belief that a pattern exists.

The ways in which a book, once read, stays (and changes) in the reader's mind are unpredictable.

Life … is a bit like reading. … If all your responses to a book have already been duplicated and expanded upon by a professional critic, then what point is there to your reading? Only that it’s yours. Similarly, why live your life? Because it’s yours. But what if such an answer becomes less and less convincing?

Though why should we expect age to mellow us? If it isn't life's business to reward merit, why should it be life's business to give us warm comfortable feelings towards its end? What possible evolutionary purpose could nostalgia serve?