she talked less, or at least did less of the kind of talking whose only purpose was to fill silence - Richard Yates

At the time of [Richard Yates's] death the novel [Uncertain Times] was perhaps two-thirds finished: about 250 pages of narrative in various stages of revision.

All I'm trying to say is that I'm afraid I got a kind of who-cares feeling out of this. Very strong writing, fine writing; still, the material kept making me think, Yeah, yeah, I get it, but who cares?

As my husband always used to say, who cares? A lot of people care, Ann. Well, that's a nice thought, but try counting them up on your fingers. Name me four. Name me three.