“In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day”

“Like many brilliant men he had grown up dead cold. Beginning at about twelve probably with the total rejection common to those of extraordinary mental powers, the ‘see here—this is all wrong—a mess—all a lie—and a sham—’ he swept it all away, everything, as men of his type do and then instead of being a son-of-a-bitch as most of them are he looked around at the barrenness that was left and said to himself, ‘This will never do.’ And so he had learned tolerance, kindness, forebearance, and even affection like lessons.”

“He used to think that he wanted to be good, he wanted to be kind, he wanted to be brave and wise, but it was all pretty difficult. He wanted to be loved, too, if he could fit it in.”

“That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past”