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. I can feel the surface trembling—it seems ready to
give but it never does. 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.
— James Salter, Memorable Days: The Selected
Letters of James Salter and Robert Phelps
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