“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Which is not an easy thing for a teacher to admit to.”
“Where are you from?” I started with what I thought was an easy question.“Everywhere,” he grumbled.“Everywhere?” I stared into the blackness of the espresso. “I don’t think I’ve been there.”
“The truth is, the person I’ve been hating more than anyone is myself. It is so easy. So easy to look in the mirror at all my imperfections and think of all the ways I fall short of someone...”
“Which is more valuable into showing how I think: the order I think of things, or the order in which I arrange them once I’ve thought of them?”
“it seems too easy.""some of the best things are," he said.”
“Do you think it would be quite so easy to kill them now that your weapon has been destroyed?' he sneered. 'No,' she said, frowning at him, 'Obviously not.”