Magic

...what he felt in its place, the truth, was inadequate. How could he say he'd become a magician because he felt abandoned once in a lonely house? How he'd returned to soothe abandoned women? How he'd fought off loneliness so many times by picking up a deck of cards that now it was simply rote? That if he weren't a magician, he'd be nothing much at all? "It's a way," he murmured, "of turning back the darkness."

"Excuse me?" Her face contorted. "Excuse me very much?"

"What I mean is, the world is an awful place, isn't it? Magic makes it less awful for a moment or two." He felt like he'd torn away a bandage, and confirmed that an old wound was indeed still there. "If I can shake the world off a man's shoulders, I feel better."

All over Bernie Simon's features, lights were dimming and doors politely closing.

"I mean," he rallied, "there's joy and wonderment to be had. I love to perform. It fights back the loneliness. It's all I really know how to do anymore."

- Glen David Gold, Carter Beats the Devil