stoned

'And there is something in even those first paragraphs, an un-show-off-y assurance in the prose, like the soft opening notes of a virtuoso or the first casual gestures of a master artist, that tells us we are in the presence not just of a great writer but of something more—someone who knows life, who maybe even understands it. It’s the same thing I sense in reading James Salter: the presence of wisdom. And wisdom is, of course, perennially out of style.'

---from an essay on John Williams's Stoner.

'My heart pains me and is heavy-alcohol, tobacco, anger, or grief-and the future, when I put my mind to it, eludes me...

I sit on the stone steps, still warm from the sun, and wait for the evening star.'

---John Cheever. 

There's a lovely rhythm to that last line, a bit like: 'Carried by silver and star and reflection'.