For me, a page of good prose is where one hears the rain and the noise of battle. It has the power to give grief or universality that lends it a youthful beauty. – John Cheever
A lonely man is a lonesome thing, a stone, a bone, a stick, a receptacle for Gilbeys gin, a stooped figure sitting at the edge of a hotel bed, heaving copious sighs like the autumn wind. – John Cheever