Why does the American dream sometimes seem so unattainable (in life and in literature)? There's that deep-set sense of hopelessness and despair? Why?
In The Big Sleep, Raymond Chandler writes: "You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now."
What's the quote you most clearly remember from the novel (or the movie versions: 1946 and 1978)? Why did that scene (or line) stay with you?
And, really... What's the point?
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