We see a wife whose husband has shown no affection for so long a time. Riverboat people come at the side of the stream knowing full well that they will not be accepted or dealt with and will be turned away at the easiest possible provocation. A woman doesn't even have to speak because she comes with her hair combed over her head hiding the bruises from a battered life. A little girl wonders whether or not she is ever going to stay in one place long enough to make friends. In his heart of hearts, he knows she is never coming back.
Young people wonder if they've chosen the right college or spouse or vocation.
The rich man wonders whether or not people are befriending him simply because they can get something from him, and the homeless wonders whether anybody cares at all. It gets so complicated sometimes that it fairly crosses our eyes to try to figure out what it is we ought to do. I am a little sympathetic with Mark Twain. Twain wrote a book every year. It wasn't because he wanted to.