A vague soil spread and ready from which friendships would spring.
A thinking child cannot conform. Thought does not bow to authority.
Only the nice explanations are never the true ones.
From the first extortion he had accepted, from the first directive he had obeyed, he had given them cause to believe that reality was a thing to be cheated, that one could demand the irrational and someone somehow would provide it.
They had counted on his pity and dreaded his anger; they had not dared consider the third alternative: his indifference.
I take no pride in hopeless longing; I wouldn't hold a stillborn aspiration. I'd want to have it, to make it, to live it.