I was plagued by remorse, but my remorse seemed inspired by insignificant dumb things—things not really worthy of bona fide remorse. That didn’t make it any less painful or plague-worthy, as I was still riddled with disgrace on a minute-by-minute basis, so I decided to conduct a scientific study to analyze the cause(s). 

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.”