"For a pure essence of being tumultuously alive, you can't beat the nasty side of existence". Philip Roth touches an unhappy truth there, I fear.
Someone, I can' t remember who, told me once in my working days, that he had a folder in his desk drawer labelled GHT. Here he filed those tricky things to which he couldn't find an answer and items to be read "in due course". What did GHT stand for? The gentle hand of time. Every now and then I think of this when I throw out a pile of neglected papers which seem to have lost their relevance. Filtered as it were by the gentle hand.