Eudora Welty voiced my feelings. I found this in her obituary in the New York Times:
The thing to wait on, to reach there in time for, is the moment when you see it. In my own case, a fuller awareness of what I needed to find out about people and their lives had to be sought for through another way, through writing stories. I knew this, anyway: that my wish, indeed my continuing passion, would be not to point the finger in judgment but to part a curtain, that invisible shadow that falls between people, the veil of indifference to each other’s presence, each other’s wonder, each other’s human plight.
