When I am unhappy, then it is only because I so rarely find people to be happy with. Happy? Well, not quite. Joyful. … It is the dilemma of my life that friends matter terrifically to me, that I like to like people, but find so many unlikeable. I was not raised by my parents so much as I was sharpened, schooled and burdened with a critical sense I can never turn off. I wear it like a pair of X-ray glasses or– do you know Anderson’s Snow Queen fairy tale? ––that snow child with the chip of glass in his heart, who sees the ugliness in everything?
—Joyce Maynard, At Home In the World