But people need lift, too. People don't get moving, they don't soar, they don't achieve great heights, without someone buoying them up.

It never occurred to him that now he was looking at his master, at the one person in all the world who held his fate right between her palms - me, in patched hand-me-downs and untrimmed hair and idiot smile - and that my hatred for him is pure and black and unforgiving. And that I don't believe in God, but if I did, if I did, it would be the God of Moses, angry and demanding and OUT FOR REVENGE.

God knows what I thought! Your brain does amazing acrobatics when it doesn't want to believe something.

It's an illusion I've noticed before-- words on a page are like oxygen to a petrol engine, firing up ghosts. It only lasts while the words are in your head. After you put down the paper or pen, the pistons fall lifeless again.

Don't know how I kept going. You just do. You have to, so you do.

But people need lift, too. People don't get moving, they don't soar, they don't achieve great heights, without someone buoying them up.

Fight with realistic hope, not to destroy all the world's wrong, but to renew its good.