How Lucky: A Novel

But one does not spend a football Saturday taking half measures.

“You don’t owe anyone anything. They help you because they love you. Why else does anyone help anyone? Letting someone help you is the nicest thing you can do for anyone.”

Travis used to do something like this in college, never looking at his bank account or the receipts from the ATM so that he could have emotional deniability of just how broke he really was.

The old alums, coming in from all over, their weekly pilgrimage to Athens, back home, back to the place where they once ruled, a place where they can remember who they used to be and pretend they can be them again.

“Everybody’s life is hard,” she would say. “Your problems are your problems the way everybody else’s problems are their problems.”

You know that movie Punch-Drunk Love? The weird one with Adam Sandler? He’s at a dinner party, and everyone there thinks he’s a weirdo, and somebody asks him, “Do you feel like there is something wrong with you?” He says, “I don’t know if there is anything wrong because I don’t know how other people are.” I don’t think there’s anything wrong with m