“So much of our early gladness vanishes utterly from our memory: we can never recall the joy with which we laid our heads on our mother’s bosom or rode on our father’s back in childhood; doubtless that joy is wrought up into our nature, as the sunlight of long-past mornings is wrought up in the soft mellowness of the apricot; but it is gone forever from our imagination, and we can only believe in the joy of childhood.”
- George Eliot, Adam Bede
“But he stays by the window, remembering that life. They had laughed. They had leaned on each other and laughed until the tears had come, while everything else—the cold and where he’d go in it—was outside, for a while anyway.”
- Raymond Carver, Distance and Other Stories
“He had an inexplicable contempt for men who did not hurl themselves into pools.”
- John Cheever, The Swimmer
Without music, life would be a mistake.
- Friedrich Nietzsche