A Quote by John Cheever

It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing could go wrong. — © John Cheever
It was a splendid summer morning and it seemed as if nothing could go wrong.
There's nothing better than a Nebraska summer so I wanted to live there in the summer time and visit my family and go to as many Nebraska games as I could.
She had taken to wondering lately, during these swift-counted years, what had been done with all those wasted summer days; how could she have spent them so wantonly? I am foolish, she told herself early every summer, I am very foolish; I am grown up now and know the values of things. Nothing is ever really wasted, she believed sensibly, even one's childhood, and then each year, one summer morning, the warm wind would come down the city street where she walked and she would be touched with the little cold thought: I have let more time go by.
With cold eyes and indifferent mind the spectators regard the work. Connoissers admire the "skill" (as one admires a tightrope walker), enjoy the "quality of painting" (as one enjoys a pasty). But hungry souls go hungry away. The vulgar herd stroll through the rooms and pronounce the pictures "nice" or "splendid." Those who could speak have said nothing, those who could hear have heard nothing.
This was a splendid life. Splendid in its obscurity and humility, splendid in its strength and charity, splendid in its achievements.
In the summer of 1954, after several years in Austin, Minnesota, our family moved across the state to the small, rural town of Worthington, where my dad became regional manager for a life insurance company. To me, at age 7, Worthington seemed a perfectly splendid spot on the earth.
What I wanted to do seemed simple. I wanted something alive and shocking enough that it could be a morning in somebody's life. The most ordinary morning. Imagine, trying to do that.
Any rainy summer morning, of course, has the seeds of gloomy alienation sown in. But a rainy summer morning far from home - when your personal clouds don't move but hang - can easily produce the feeling of the world as seen from the grave. This I know.
I was so afraid to go out west to my aunt's ranch. But the only choice my mother gave me was to go for two weeks or all summer. I wound up staying all summer. And that's where I learned about cattle. I could relate to their behavior, their fears.
Nothing can go wrong in this world but yourself ; and you can go wrong only by getting into the wrong mental attitude.
I love high summer as well, but nothing beats a perfect May morning.
I'd fallen asleep thinking I was much too tired to go on working and if I went on working, I'd lose it. I'd get a better hold of it in the morning; feel stronger. But I looked and looked at it and it seemed to me there was nothing to do.
In the end, glorification of splendid underdogs is nothing other than glorification of the splendid system that makes them so.
It now lately sometimes seemed a black miracle to me that people could actually care deeply about a subject or pursuit, and could go on caring this way for years on end. Could dedicate their entire lives to it. It seemed admirable and at the same time pathetic. We are all dying to give our lives away to something, maybe.
There's nothing wrong with being respected by your peers. There's nothing wrong with trying to do your best. There's nothing wrong with success. There's not even anything wrong with trying to get a raise. There's nothing wrong with that.
So many things could go wrong, on any film. I've been out in L.A. for eight years and I've been acting professionally for a long time, and you realize that you have to prepare and work hard, but you never know what could go wrong.
The whole idea of genre and categorising films is a critic's construct. For me, I just try and make stories and see where they go, but there's nothing wrong with horror; there's nothing wrong with romantic comedies.
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