In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Here was a new generation, shouting the old cries, learning the old creeds, through a revery of long days and nights; destined finally to go out into that dirty gray turmoil to follow love and pride; a new generation dedicated more than the last to the fear of poverty and the worship of success; grown up to find all Gods dead, all wars fought, all faiths in man shaken...

"They're a rotten lot," I shouted, across the lawn. "You're worth the whole damn bunch put together."

I didn’t realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.