The joy of youth is to disobey; but the trouble is that there are no longer any orders.
Not only should you not accept a prize. You should not try to deserve one either.
At all costs the true world of childhood must prevail, must be restored; that world whose momentous, heroic, mysterious quality is fed on airy nothings, whose substance is so ill-fitted to withstand the brutal touch of adult inquisition.
What uniform can I wear to hide my heavy heart? It is too heavy. It will always show.
He who is affected by an insult is infected by it.
Perhaps I know to what extent I can go too far.