Men may congratulate themselves for writing truly and passionately about the movements of nations; they may consider war and the search for God to be great literature's only subjects; but if men's standing in the world could be toppled by an ill-advised choice of hat, English literature would be dramatically changed.
Michael CunninghamOh, all you immigrants and visionaries, what do you hope to find here, who do you hope to become?
Michael CunninghamInsomniacs know better than anyone how it would be to haunt a house.
Michael CunninghamWhere did the boy genius go? He had been, as a child, expected to be a neurosurgeon, or a great novelist. And now he's considering (or, okay, refusing to consider) law school. Was the burden of his potential too much for him?
Michael CunninghamThe problem with the truth is, it's so often mild and clichéd.
Michael CunninghamThere's no denying his resemblance to the Rodin bronze - the slender, effortless muscularity of youth, the extravagant nonchalance of it; that sense that beauty is in fact the natural human condition and not the rarest of mutations.
Michael CunninghamWhat marriage doesn't involve uncountable accretions, a language of gestures, a sense of recognition sharp as a toothache? Unhappy, sure. What couple isn't unhappy, at least part of the time? But how can the divorce rate be, as they say, skyrocketing? How miserable would you have to get to be able to bear the actual separation, to go off and live your life so utterly unrecognized?
Michael CunninghamAny other vexations to report?" he asks.
"I love the word 'vexations.'"
"It's the 'x.' Nice to jump off a 'v' and bite into an 'x' like that."
"Just the usual ones," she says.
"How was the weekend?"
"Vexing. Not really, I just wanted to say it. You?
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 CunninghamWe always worry about the wrong things, don't we?
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