I'm tired of my life, my clothes, the things I say. I'm hacking away at the surface, as at some kind of gray ice, trying to break through to what is underneath, or I am dead. Furthermore, I can feel the surface trembling—it seems ready to give, but it never does. Furthermore, I am uninterested in current events. How can I justify this? How can I explain it? I don't want to have the same vocabulary I've always had. I want something richer, broader, more penetrating and powerful.

Memorable Days: The Selected Letters of James Salter and Robert Phelps