...but these backwaters of existence sometimes breed, in their sluggish depths, strange acuities of emotion... ("Afterward")

If you want him to do it, you've got to change the picture of the world inside his head.

There is no point in hurrying because you are not actually going anywhere. However far or long you plod, you are always in the same place: in the woods.

The words came out slowly, haltingly, as if they had cost him a struggle. Nan had noticed before now that anger was too big a garment for him; it always hung on him in uneasy folds.

Written By Edith Wharton

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