While reading Consider the Lobster, a book of essays by David Foster Wallace, there were two sentences in two essays that stood out for me more than any others. (And pretty much every page has one or more sentences that explode with brilliance.) One I underlined in pencil, the other I folded the corner of the page. When I reread them both I found a striking parallel.
"Today’s subforties have very different horrors, prominent among which are anomie and solipsism and a peculiarly American loneliness: the prospect of dying without even once have loved something more than yourself.”
- Certainly the End of Something or Other
"The fact of the matter is that if you’re a true-blue, market-savvy Young Voter the only thing you’re certain to feel … is a very modern and American type of ambivalence, a sort of interior war between your deep need to believe and your deep belief that your need to believe is bullshit, and there’s nothing left anywhere but sales and salesmen.”
- Up, Simba
The thing with David Foster Wallace is that reading him makes me sad. Because it’s so incredible and you’re left with the maddening question of, what is the magic in it? And why does exposing all this truth about things make it okay?