"Maybe that's why it had been at this moment that things became clear. As Amos stood in the hall, he saw finally what she deserved: a faith so total she never stopped to realize that's what it was; the faith that someone was there, that if she were tired or sad or just emptied out, she had people against whom she could lean. That's what he hadn't had, what he'd spent so long trying to find. But, he told Claire, here was the thing, the essence he'd grasped: what was the point of transcending one's past if the cost were giving those same hurts to his child? And wasn't that what he'd be doing? Because how could she live? How could she breathe? What healing was possible when her own parents refused to acknowledge the truth? And what was life, after all, if not the question of whether we'd spot the real moments of meaning? Could we, through force of habit and will, know when to shed our selfish, small skins? And, if we did, would we act? Claire had been wrong: it wasn't enough just to be gentle and nice, to bring her tea or go for long walks. One needs to do something -- he had to do something -- to behave like someone who believed what she said. Maybe his whole life had been about this, Amos thought. It might be the one choice that would count in the end. He knew how she would feel, he told Claire as he paced. But he had to, he just had to, and he hoped she would see."
-- Among Friends, pp 301-302
