“I have a feeling that you’re riding for some kind of a terrible, terrible fall… It may be the kind where, at the age of thirty, you sit in some bar hating everybody who comes in looking as if he might have played football in college. Then again, you may pick up just enough education to hate people who say, ‘It’s a secret between he and I.’ Or you may end up in some business office, throwing paper clips at the nearest stenographer… This fall I think you’re riding for–it’s a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn’t permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom, he just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangment’s designed for men who, at some point in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn’t supply them with, or they thought their own environment couldn’t supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they ever really even got started.” (>>)