Sometimes the world is so much sicker than the inmates of its institutions.
all children blackmail their parents with their innocence.
If I want to die, what am I saving myself for?
The rose-garden world of perfection is a lie and a bore too!
The creative strength is good enough and deep enough to bring itself to flower and to grow in spite of this sickness.
She now knew that the death she feared might not be a physical one, that it could be death of the will, the soul, the mind, the laws, and thus not death, but a perpetual dying.