Though the Jazz Age continued, it became less and less an affair of youth. The sequel was like a children’s party taken over by the elders, leaving the children puzzled and rather neglected and rather taken aback.
That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.
When the first-rate author wants an exquisite heroine or a lovely morning, he finds that all the superlatives have been worn shoddy by his inferiors. It should be a rule that bad writers must start with plain heroines and ordinary mornings, and, if they are able, work up to something better.
Trouble has no necessary connection with discouragement – discouragement has a germ of its own, as different from trouble as arthritis is different from a stiff joint.