When I learned of his transgression I threw myself into Dante and Shakespeare, seeking to understand the world that I had failed to see.

I was plagued by remorse, but my remorse seemed inspired by insignificant dumb things—things not really worthy of bona fide remorse.

The guests are arriving, across the lawn. It is Friday afternoon. The men are coming in on the late train in the parlor car, and others have come on the ferryboat

“Once I had to go to Disney World with my small children.”

“I was already praying: please let me have that disease where you hear a piano playing Mozart nonstop.”

“Goodness is a lot more interesting than it sounds.”