Words weren’t dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you.
What a weary time those years were – to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability.
They experimented on the poor and if that worked they used the treatment on the rich. And if it didn’t work, there would still be more poor left over to experiment upon.
The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left.
The best thing about the bedroom was the bed. I liked to stay in bed for hours, even during the day with the covers pulled up to my chin. It was good in there, nothing ever occurred in there, no people, nothing.
News travels fast in places where nothing much ever happens.
I had noticed that both in the very poor and very rich extremes of society the mad were often allowed to mingle freely.
I guess the only time most people think about injustice is when it happens to them.
Dying in a war never stopped wars from happening.
