You say you felt a presence, but I only sensed an absence. A vague pain without a source. I was like a patient who cannot tell the doctor where it hurts, only that it does.

Accept life without apologies for everything you offered was out of your will and it should not hold any regrets.

I love the way you said "love" like you knew what it was.

Perhaps,' I wearily suggest, 'reading is the opiate of the educated classes.' 'Is it? Are you thinking of becoming a flower child?' he says, lighting up a new cigar.

Written By Philip Roth

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