[b]Jeffrey Eugenides
Everyone struggles against despair, but it always wins in the end. It has to. It’s the thing that lets us say goodbye.[/b]
A philosophy to die for as it were.
Emotions, in my experience aren’t covered by single words. I don’t believe in “sadness,” “joy,” or “regret.” I’d like to have at my disposal complicated hybrid emotions, Germanic traincar constructions like, say, “the happiness that attends disaster.” Or: “the disappointment of sleeping with one’s fantasy.” … I’d like to have a word for “the sadness inspired by failing restaurants” as well as for “the excitement of getting a room with a minibar.” I’ve never had the right words to describe my life.
Let’s get started on this, okay?
I was born twice: first, as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again, as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974.
Probably not literally.
In the midst of my skeptical, cynical, often pessimistic nature exists a slender capacity to believe, if only temporarily, in a guiding, unseen power, and whenever this happens, I go with it. That’s what inspiration is. You don’t get it from the gods. You make it.
Trust me: Not all of us.
She’d become an English major for the purest and dullest of reasons: because she loved to read.
Only now she can’t pay the bills.
Don’t waste your time on life.
That’s not as easy as it sounds though.