He lost himself in a maze of thoughts that were rendered vague by his lack of words to express them. Frowning, he tried again.

A crowd of grade-three thinkers, all shouting the same thing, all warming their hands at the fire of their own prejudices, will not thank you for pointing out the contradictions in their beliefs. Man is a gregarious animal, and enjoys agreement as cows will graze all the same way on the side of a hill.

They looked at each other, baffled, in love and hate.

I don't think they [contemporary writers] read me either. I mean, if we're concerned genuinely with writing, I think we probably get on with our work.

Life should serve up its feast of experience in a series of courses.

This is our island. It's a good island. Until the grownups come to fetch us we'll have fun.

There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws.