He had won but he didn't feel like a winner.

Why did everything always change when all you wanted, all you had ever humbly asked of whatever God there might be, was that certain things be allowed to stay the same?

Remember what Anatole France said about the dog masturbating on your leg--'Sure, it's honest, but who needs it?

...his job was the very least important part of his life, never to be mentioned except in irony.

Every man has a right to keep his own sentiments if he pleases.

It's a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares any more; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn mediocrity.

Being alone has nothing to do with how many people are around.