The Mexican War did two good things though.  We got a lot of Western land, damn near doubled our size, and besides that it was a training ground for generals, so that when the sad self-murder settled on us the leaders knew the techniques for making it properly horrible.


And he knew that although his wife had insisted on the whipping, although she had forced him to whip Cathy, she hated him for doing it.  Despair settled over him.

Cathy turned her head very slowly and looked at her mother.  Her eyes were expressionless and cold.  And suddenly Mrs. Amos was afraid of her daughter.

What freedom men and women could have, were they not constantly tricked and trapped and enslaved and tortured by their sexuality!  The only drawback in that freedom is that without it one would not be human.  One would be a monster.

Nearly everyone in the world has appetites and impulses, trigger emotions, islands of selfishness, lusts just beneath the surface.   And most people either hold such things in check or indulge them secretly.

As a child may be born without an arm, so one may be born without kindness or the potential of a conscience.  A man who loses his arms in an accident has a great struggle to adjust himself to the lack, but one born without arms suffers only from people who find him strange.  Having never had arms, he cannot miss them… To a man born without conscience, a soul-stricken man must seem ridiculous.

She never studied the Bible or inspected it; she just read it.  The many places where it seems to refute itself did not confuse her in the least.  And finally she came to a point where she went right on reading it without listening.

Joe was physically lazy, and probably mentally lazy, too.  He daydreamed out his life, and his mother loved him more than the others because she thought he was helpless.  Actually, he was the least helpless, because he got exactly what he wanted with a minimum of effort.  Joe was the darling of the family.

Perhaps it was his driving sexual need that made him remain a bachelor.

I want to say – I want to say – I mean, I never understood – well, why our father did it.  I mean, why didn’t he like that knife I bought for him on his birthday.  Why didn’t he?  It was a good knife and he needed a good knife.  If he had used it or even honed it, or took it out of his pocket and looked at it – that’s all he had to do.