What greater prestige can a man like me (not too gifted, but very understanding) have than to have taken a cheap, shoddy and utterly lost kind of writing, and have made of it something that intellectuals claw each other about?
He closed his eyes. “I’m so tired, Tess,” he said. “I only wanted pleasant dreams for once. ” “That is not the way to get them, Will,” she said softly. “You cannot buy or drug or dream your way out of pain.