In middle age we are apt to reach the horrifying conclusion that all sorrow, all pain, all passionate regret and loss and bitter disillusionment are self-made

You can only see one thing clearly, and that is your goal. Form a mental vision of that, and cling to it through thick and thin.

Like faith, marriage is a mystery. The person you're committed to spending your life with is known and yet unknown, at the same time remarkably intimate and necessarily other. The classic seven-year itch may not be a case of familiarity breeding ennui and contempt, but the shock of having someone you thought you knew all too well suddenly seem a stranger. When that happens, you are compelled to either recommit to the relationship or get the hell out. There are many such times in a marriage.

Traversing a slow page, to come upon a lode of the pure shining metal is to exult inwardly for greedy hours.

When you are unhappy, is there anything more maddening than to be told that you should be contented with your lot?

In spite of the cost of living, it's still popular.

Any life lived attentively is disillusioning as it forces us to know us as we are.