Chad Harbach "The Art of Fielding"
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"We have three options," Mike said. "We can go to Bartleby's, which is a bar. We can go to my house, which is a mess. Or we can drive around until my car breaks down, which will be soon."
...Professor Eglantine seemed as sensitive as a skinned knee...
He set the full mug of coffee down on the edge of Affenlight's desk with an air of finality. Perhaps he was exercising his right to refuse hospitality, or maybe he took milk.
Never too drunk to use whom.
It had been forty-two years since he'd lost his virginity. He'd never thought then that he would lose it again. He felt a touch of sadness now that it had happened, now that he knew what it was like. Not because it wasn't enjoyable, or wouldn't be repeated, but because one more of life's mysteries had been revealed.
Perhaps he'd been too permissive and tolerant a parent, and thereby forced Pella to grow up too fast. Or perhaps he'd never been tolerant enough to accommodate a girl of Pella's talents. Or perhaps he'd raised her perfectly, but every other parent in the world had miserably erred, and so Pella, precisely because of her perfect upbringing, had been forced to find her own way.
Men were such odd creatures. They didn't duel anymore, even fistfight had come to seem barbaric, the old casual violence all channeled through institutions now, but still they loved to uphold their ancient codes. And what they loved even more was to forgive each other.
...a soul isn't something a person is born with but something that must be built, by effort and error, study and love.
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