She’s been reading too much, he thought -had drifted across that line that separated what you might find in a book from what you might do
Chad HarbachAnd as the end arrived and his breath left him he couldn’t remember or imagine ever having cared.
Chad HarbachOther things awaited. It was good to be young and to know it for once. So much unfolding to do.
Chad HarbachHad he learned - would he ever learn - to discard the thoughts he could not use?
Chad HarbachI'm a staunch monogamist. In practice, if not in theory. I can't help it. Do I acknowledge the oppressive, regressive nature of sexual exclusivity? Yes. Do I want that exclusivity very badly for myself? Also yes. There's probably some sort of way in which that's not a paradox. Maybe I believe in love.
Chad HarbachTags: sexuality love exclusivity monogamist
Just for the sake of my own stupid pleasure
Chad HarbachSometimes a cloudless swatch of sky would blow past the moon, and Pella could see the outline of Mike's face in a slightly sharper relief. It was strange the way he loved her: a sidelong and almost casual love, as if loving her were simply a matter of course, too natural to mention. Like their first meeting on the steps of the gym, when he'd hardly so much as glanced at her. With David and every guy before David, what passed for love had always been eye to eye, nose to nose; she felt watched, observed, like the prize at the zoo, and she wound up pacing, preening, watching back, to fit the part. Whereas Mike was always beside her. She would stand at the kitchen window and look out at the quad, at the Melville statue and beyond that the beach and the rolling lake, and realize that Make, for however long, had been standing beside her, staring at the same thing.
Chad HarbachHadn't the myth of the glory of homeownership been debunked once and for all? Did he really want to trade his free time - and a formidable chunk of his savings - for a big white symbol of bourgeois propriety?
Chad HarbachHenry," he said. "You are skilled. I exhort you.
Chad HarbachTags: henry-skrimshander owen-dunne
That was what made the story so epic: the player, the hero, had to suffer mightily en route to his final triumph. Schwartz knew that people loved to suffer, as long as the suffering made sense. Everybody suffered. The key was to choose the form of your suffering. Most people couldn't do this alone; they needed a coach. A good coach made you suffer in a way that suited you. A bad coach made everyone suffer in the same way, and so was more like a torturer.
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