Henry Miller on the meal, Tropic of Cancer

Walking along the Champs-Elysees I keep thinking of my really superb health. When I say health I mean optimism, to be truthful. Incurably optimistic! Still have one foot in the nineteenth century. I'm a bit retarded, like most Americans. Carl finds it disgusting, this optimism. I have only to talk about a meal, he says, and you're radiant! It's a fact. The mere thought of a meal - another meal - rejuvenates me. A meal! That means something to go on, a few solid hours of work, an erection possibly. I don't deny it. I have health, good solid, animal health. The only thing that stands between me and a future is a meal, another meal.