I imagined a psychic pain growing inside him (myself) that demanded some physical outlet. Suicide must have been his attempt to give Pain a body, a representation, to put it outside himself. A need to convert inner torment into some outward tangible wound that all could see. It was almost as though suicide were a last-ditch effort at exorcism, in which the person sacrificed his life in order that the devil inside might die.
My other work, teaching, also is satisfying because I can be with people but in controlled circumstances, which aren't as likely to yield the pain of dealing with family.
Contradictory strands create an essay that's richly ambivalent.
You must read a lot of personal essays - you needn't reinvent the wheel.
I've had an enduring appreciation of psychology.
For most of my life, I have wanted broad impact but now, at 72, I'm not so sure that's always my first priority.
Indeed, at times it's best to shut up.
The dinner party is a suburban form of entertainment. Its spread in our big cities represents an insidious Fifth Column suburbanization of the metropolis.
