The edges I pursued were of the mind and heart, because I believed they were where insight resided. Insight was my God when I felt deserted. I fell in love with the word in William James or somewhere, with the thing itself in Joyce or somewhere. It was survival, I thought.
Death is hardying. No going back. I happened on the quote from Wolfe in a Sunday supplement, because it’s been a long time since I learned about life from Eugene and Ben in Altamont, Catawba. As I write it here, I wish I could tell you, all my beloved readers, the meaning of life.
— Read on lithub.com/robert-stone-i-would-have-given-you-the-meaning-of-life-if-i-could/