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Moving On Moving On by Larry McMurtry
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“He had no interest in changing her, or in marrying her. He would never make her better, nor she him. They could only get worse, more violent, more emotional, more sordid. There would be less and less tenderness, less and less grace, less and less consideration; a great deal of lessening awaited her with Sonny. He had been a continent, her continent, Sonny had. What she feared was that she had come to the end of him. What was left of it, that country where she had been alive? Phone calls, a few visits, some sex, many fights. The plains, the forests, and the valleys, those were behind her. There was just the coast, with a nice wave now and then to watch for, and the beach littered with beer cans and chewing gum wrappers.”
Larry McMurtry, Moving On
“When am I going to be blessed with your company?” “I’m not sure. I’d just as soon Sonny didn’t get the idea that we were old flames. At times he’s pretty possessive.” “Can’t blame him,” Joe said. “This is no place for intrigue. Trying to have an affair in this town would be nerve-racking as hell, no matter who you are or who it’s with. Monogamy must have been invented for dumps like Amarillo.”
Larry McMurtry, Moving On
“He went on and told other stories, anecdotes about wounds and arguments, dances, frights, misunderstandings and exploding pressure cookers—selecting for them a kind of anthology of scenes from his decades of married life. After a while it seemed to Patsy that he was delivering an elegy, probably the only one he ever spoke. His voice was calm and quite firm, as if its tone had long ago been purified by whatever disappointment, loneliness, or grief he had felt in that place, on that high-roofed old porch, alone with the night breeze and the dark pastures round.”
Larry McMurtry, Moving On
“soon he would have to learn to call his depression happiness in order to endure it.”
Larry McMurtry, Moving On