Crashbox

I find this little piece of cynicism very important...it's lament weeps for a much deeper tragedy than the actual words or the dated references...

"What, after all, is the use of not having cancer, cirrhosis, and such,
if a man comes home from work every day at five-thirty to the exurbs of
Montclair or Memphis and there is the grass growing and the little family
looking not quite at him but just past the side of his head, and there's
Cronkite on the tube and the smell of pot roast in the living room, and
inside the house and outside in the pretty exurb has settled the noxious
particles and the sadness of the old dying Western world, and him thinking:
'J---s, is this it? Listening to Cronkite and the grass growing?'"

-Walker Percy