In any case, the town of North Bath, now, in the late autumn of 1984, was still waiting for its luck to change. There were encouraging signs. A restored Sans Souci, what was left of it, was scheduled to reopen in the summer, and a new spring had been successfully drilled on the hotel's extensive grounds. And luck, so the conventional wisdom went, ran in cycles. (Wednesday, p. 9)

Half the town's been meaning to leave. They don't, though, most of them. (Wednesday, p. 38)

Hell, at twenty, he'd been ready to junk everything and start over too. But now, at sixty, he was less willing to throw things away that could be patched together and kept running for a few more months. He wanted to keep going forward, not stop and turn around and analyze the validity of decisions made and courses charted long ago. (Wednesday, p. 77)

And Clive Jr...