I was working straight for nine months and I'm exhausted. I'm ready to relax for a little while and read. I don't want to work for work sake; I have to be excited about it.
Children see things very well sometimes - and idealists even better.
How could this world be so unlike the world that I believed I was living in? I can't describe it. Do I not want to describe it, or do I simply not possess the vocabulary?

