Excerpt from Joyce Oates

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But perhaps loneliness is the human condition. Broken intermittently by flashes of something else: camaraderie, friendship, “love.” Too much social life & one hungers for seclusion. Too much seclusion & one hungers for social life. A pendulum back and forth. No rest, no stasis. I really don’t know…do I need people very much, or is it all a kind of illusion, surrounding oneself with friends, imagining needs, connections, exchanges…? How does one know the first truth about oneself?

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