'....that single miserable evening, with its hatred of him, its loyalty to her, and its self-pity for himself all intact, hung in his head as unalterable as a room that disappears when a switch is touched, and appears again the the moment the switch is turned back on. He hadn't turned on the light in that room for years but there it still was, implacable.'
Wallace Stegner, Recapitulation, p.50.
