The Son

Your slice of pie is one less I can eat myself, that was his attitude, and for every orphan he helped in public there were ten he made in private.

Once men got an idea, they did not seem to care if it killed them or not.

How they will ever get democracy I don’t know—they are very comfortable with the idea that powerful men rule their lives. Or perhaps they are simply more honest about it than we allow ourselves to be.

All my noble thoughts vanish—when kindness is truly needed it is scarce as the milk of queens.

if there was anything she hated more than unions, it was people who couldn’t work.

It had been the turning point of her life, in some sense its most important moment; she had seen the world and retreated,

I tell myself she was a luxury, like fruit out of season, lucky to have but temporary.

Considered interrupting them to note that the entire history of humanity is marked by a single inexorable movement—from animal instinct toward rational thought, from inborn behavior toward acquired knowledge. A half-grown panther abandoned in the wilderness will grow up to be a perfectly normal panther. But a half-grown child similarly abandoned wi

The liberals would cheer her death. They would light marijuana cigarettes and drive to their sushi restaurants and eat fresh food that had traveled eight thousand miles. They would spend all of supper complaining about people like her, and when they got home their houses would be cold and they’d press a button on a wall to get warm. The whole time