Enchantment

Living with a god is not what it's cracked up to be. They think their women should be grateful just to have them around.

In the absence of understanding, that was a good a reason as any for living together and making babies and raising them up and throwing them out of the house and then going through the long slow decline together until one of them died and left the other alone again, understanding as little as ever about what their spouses really wanted, who they really were. Was that tragedy? Or was that comedy? Was there really any difference?

Like running hurdles. Work so hard, jump over every one, fast, high enough but no higher, because you can't afford to hang in the air. And then, when the race is over, you're dripping with sweat, either they beat you or you beat them... and then a couple of guys come out and move the hurdles out of the way. Turns out they were nothing. All that work to jump over them, but now they're gone.

Marriage is about banality. Its purpose is banality, to create an environment of surpassing safety and predictability for young children to grow up in, the foundation of life, the root of inner peace.

It was his father who had shrunk, who no longer had the power of the giant, of the god, to enfold him and keep him safe.

I took the leap, yes, but I didn't like the ledge where I landed — I fought the bear, I kissed the princess, but now I don't want to be king. Well, where in the fairy tales did it ever say Cinderella had to like being queen?

"Women's intuition" wasn't intuition at all, it was heightened observation, unconscious registration of subtle clues.

If he was a good man, how could he leave me? So he must not be a good man. But if he isn't good, then why does it hurt so much to lose him? Is it just my pride that's wounded?

How could I hurt her? She'd have to love me before I could do that.

Having never been in control of his own life, his idea of freedom was simply to break free.

Love can't conquer anything. Love can't make a scholar into a warrior. Loving her can't make her love me.

In Vanya's family, silence had never meant surrender, only tactical retreat.

Before the story he refused to even think about it; after the story, it became conceivable to him, and, once he could conceive of it, it soon became inevitable.