by Richard Ford
Nothing in the world
is as hopeful as knowing a woman you like is somewhere thinking about
only you. Conversely, there is no badness anywhere as acute as the
badness of no woman out in the world thinking about you. Or worse. That
one has quit because of some bone-headedness on your part. It is like
looking out an airplane window and finding the earth has disappeared. No
loneliness can compete with that.
Richard Ford won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction for his 1995 novel Independence Day.