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“Expectation is the source of all human misery”

All the Old Knives

“Expectation is the source of all human misery” is Celia Favreau’s account of how hope can make a life feel like a failure when it does not match an imagined future. The expression connects an intimate morning with Henry Pelham in Vienna to Celia’s later disappointment in California, where she had expected escape and peace. Its force lies in that double edge: expectations can sustain people, but their collapse can obscure what they have actually found.

Formulation in Vienna

The idea takes shape during a bright Austrian winter morning, after a night when Celia had thought of Henry as a year-long mistake and wanted to escape his embrace. Daylight changes her view. She briefly forgets his jealousy, self-pity, tender ego, and slovenly habits; beside the sleeping Henry, she can imagine him as capable of almost limitless effort and change. For a few minutes, she even feels lucky. The morning’s optimism is real, but Celia knows it is not a reliable promise about what follows.

That uncertainty gives the thought its first form. Celia observes that people need expectations for the future in order to keep going, yet the failure of those expectations brings sadness. When Henry wakes, squints at her and the window, and pulls the pillow over his head with a groan, the hopeful spell has met an ordinary, imperfect response. Her brief verdict, “Expectation will get you every time,” turns the scene into a compact rule of experience: hope can be sustaining, but it also leaves a person exposed to the gap between what was imagined and what arrives.

The morning also frames the expression as part of Celia and Henry’s shared past rather than a detached maxim. As she goes to boil water, she thinks about the relationship, then decides that it is best to begin at the beginning. The movement from the present morning into their earlier history makes the line both an observation about expectation and a threshold into the story of how their relationship developed.

California and the cost of imagined escape

Years later, Henry asks Celia about unhappiness during their meeting in California. She traces her theory to Vienna, when they were together, and summarizes it as “Expectation is the source of all human misery.” Her explanation is not abstract: she measures her California life against a specific set of hopes. She had anticipated relaxation, some luxury, intellectual stimulation, a safe place to raise her children, and, above all, a complete escape from the Central Intelligence Agency.

That hoped-for distance is interrupted almost immediately. About two weeks after Celia arrives, a man named Karl contacts her to say that Bill Compton is in trouble. Celia asks for more information, and Karl visits her at the restaurant where she is speaking with Henry. He alleges that Bill has been selling secrets to Islamist groups, including the Taliban and al Qaeda. The news makes California inseparable from the work and dangers Celia had wanted to leave behind. Her disappointment does not arise simply because the place fails to be pleasant; the life she expected there was meant to provide a clean break, and the call denies her that clean break.

Celia does not accept Karl’s allegation on his say-so. She tells him she relies on evidence and will not turn her life, or Bill’s, upside down on a stranger’s speculation. Karl leaves his card and asks her to call if she changes her mind. Her response shows that disappointment coexists with judgment: the call unsettles her, but she does not treat suspicion as proof. In retrospect, however, the experience sours her sense of California. She becomes darker and disconnected, feels like a ghost, visits a doctor, and comes to depend on Xanax to keep herself level. Though her life is good, she cannot see it as good; her demand that the new place deliver everything she wanted makes her feel cheated.

The unexpected as a counterexample

Celia’s account does not claim that every expectation fails in the same way. She says her life in California remains miserable even with Xanax, then identifies an exception: Evan. Asked why her feelings changed, she answers that she had no idea what to expect from him. The contrast does not make motherhood an uncomplicated cure—Celia cautions Henry that having a child is not for the faint of heart—but it gives the expression a counterpoint. Where she had loaded California with demands, she entered her relationship with Evan without a predetermined picture of what he would provide.

The expression therefore shifts from a complaint about disappointed hopes into a way of distinguishing kinds of attention. Celia’s imagined California made the real place answerable to a long list of promised satisfactions; her lack of expectations about Evan left her less able to measure him against a forecast. The text supports this contrast through Celia’s own explanation, not through a claim that expectation can simply be abandoned. She has already acknowledged that people rely on expectations to keep going. Her theory holds both truths at once: anticipation gives the future its pull, while attachment to a particular outcome can make the present seem deficient.

Narrative role and significance

The phrase recurs across separated moments and changes meaning with its setting. In Vienna, it follows an intimate fluctuation: a gray-winter rarity of a bright morning temporarily revises Celia’s judgment of Henry, only for his groan to puncture the scene’s optimism. In California, the same theory helps her explain a longer period of disconnection, shaped by hopes for a peaceful life and disrupted by news about Bill. The repetition connects private romance, professional history, and family life without making them interchangeable.

Celia’s maxim also gives the conversation with Henry a retrospective structure. She is explaining what she learned after leaving the Agency, while the earlier morning supplies the thought’s emotional origin. Against the imagined future of escape, the passage places concrete interruptions: Henry’s unenthusiastic waking, Karl’s visit to the restaurant, Celia’s reliance on medication, and her unexpected bond with Evan. The expression gathers these reversals into one proposition, but its qualification matters as much as its warning. Expectations can sustain the future; suffering follows when they become demands that reality must fulfill.