" for a short time she mourned him, believing he had anchored her, had kept her from floating off into no man’s land, that land of midnight cries and pets with too many little toys, but now she rarely thought of him. she knew there were only small joys in life—the big ones were too complicated to be joys when you got all through—and once you realized that, it took a lot of pressure off. you could put the pressure aside, like a child’s game, its box ripped to flaps at the corners. you could stick it in some old closet and forget about it.

— lorrie moore, like life.