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The problem of extremely wealthy people living amid a clamor of plain middle-class people—forcing those middle-class people to contend with not their enormous luck but their remaining dissatisfactions—was a problem solved with the 1990s proliferation of the McMansion. Suddenly the middle class had plenty of space inside their hollow stucco walls to store their delusions.
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On that last morning, in front of the Statue of Liberty, Zelig prayed with the minyan one last time, and he paused in his prayers to consider God. God had tortured him, and then God had saved him. God had cursed him, but then He had blessed him. They were even, Zelig decided. But it was best they never spoke again.
$han liked this
She had been locked in a debate with herself her whole life about how to be good in the world, and the only thing she left out of that very private conversation she was having was the actual work of being a nice, normal human being.
What is it about shame, that a teaspoon of it weighs so much more than a teaspoon of happiness or any other innocuous emotion? What is it about shame that it always feels like the truth? If she could only feel more of the shame, went her logic, she could get at the actual truth, and a solution.
