Deep inside us is a kernel of individuality. It is below socialization. (I could mention Hegel, but name dropping is a gimmick. Wait, this parenthetical denunciation is a gimmick. Wait this self confession is a gimmick. Egad (I just researched on wikipedia that "gadzooks" is a minced profanity deriving from "god's hooks," i.e. nails of the cross.).) As I was saying.
It is below our concepts of life. It is below pretty much everything. If we were left in the wilderness at birth and became feral children, what would be left? Is it false that society creates as well as buries the self? Beware of questions in your writing, says Dr. Baer. Prof. Griffith concurred.
Nothing Gold can stay, Ponyboy. Stay Gold, Ponyboy. S. E. Hinton, I love you.
Long Tim?
Sounds like a pirate name.
Tommy, I used Jason, and I called him Simon, but "What We Found in the Tunnels" is at least partially dedicated to you. I am not saying anything particularly new in it, but hopefully I am saying my old thing in a way no one has really said it in before.
"Aw, Ma, what'd you bring that book I don't like to be read to out of up for?"
Yes indeed, what for?
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