“The world," he said, "is not a wish-granting factory," and then he broke down, just for one moment, his sob roaring impotent like a clap of thunder unaccompanied by lightning, the terrible ferocity that amateurs in the field of suffering might mistake for weakness.”
“Along the coast the sea roars, and inland the mountains roar – the roaring at the center, like a distant clap of thunder.”
“I wanted..." I said."I know," he said. "I know. Apparently the world is not a wish-granting factory." That made me smile a little.”
“The world is not a wish-granting factory.”
“Apparently, the world is not a wish-granting factory.”
“But alas, the world is not a wish-granting factory.”