To think’s audacity. God only has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that.
The real tragedy of the poor is that they can afford nothing but self-denial. Beautiful sins, like beautiful things, are the privilege of the rich.
Talking nonsense is the sole privilege mankind possesses over the other organisms.
Privilege is something to be aware of, to fight to see beyond, but ultimately to be grateful for. It’s like a bulletproof vest; it makes you harder to kill.
Oh, I wouldn’t mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.
Everybody was privileged. There were only privileged people.