Fiction Is A Solution, The Best Solution,

Everything He'd Done With Regard To Her In The Last Three Years Had Been Calculated To Foreclose The Intensely Personal Sort Of Talks They'd Had When He Was Younger: To Get Her To Shut Up, To Train Her To Contain Herself, To Make Her Stop Pestering Him With Her Overfull Heart And Her Uncensored Self. And Now That The Training Was Complete And She Was Obediently Trivial With Him, He Felt Bereft Of Her And Wanted To Undo It.

Depression Presents Itself As A Realism Regarding The Rottenness Of The World In General And The Rottenness Of Your Life In Particular.

Then She Waited, With Parted Lips And A Saucy Challenge In Her Eyes, To See How Her Presence -- The Drama Of Being Her -- Was Registering. In The Way Of Such Chicks, She Seemed Convinced Of The Originality Of Her Provocation.

If You're Interested In How People Behave, If You're Interested In The Way They Talk About Themselves, The Way The Conceive Of Themselves, It's Very Hard To Ignore Drugs Nowadays, Because That Is So Much Part Of The Conversation.

...she Felt That Nothing Could Kill Her Hope Now, Nothing. She Was Seventy-five And She Was Going To Make Some Changes In Her Life.