He's one of those smart, drifty young people who, after certain deliberations, decides he wants to do Something in the Arts but won't, possibly can't, think in terms of an actual job; who seems to imagine that youth and brains and willingness will simply summon an occupation, the precise and perfect nature of which will reveal itself in its own time.
Michael Cunningham. . . he felt himself entering a moment so real he could only run toward it, shouting.
Michael CunninghamTake me with you. I want a doomed love. I want streets at night, wind and rain, no one wondering where I am.
Michael CunninghamWhat a thrill, what a shock, to be alive on a morning in June, prosperous, almost scandalously privileged, with a simple errand to run.
Michael Cunningham