“Well, I guess I'll become a thief, then," said Pica unhappily. "though I don't think I'll be much good. I'm a pacifist, you see?”
In this quote, the character Pica expresses his reluctance towards becoming a thief due to his pacifist beliefs. By stating that he is a pacifist, Pica reveals that he is opposed to violence or conflict and prefers peaceful solutions. This inner conflict showcases Pica's internal struggle between survival and his moral values. Pica's declaration of being a pacifist adds depth to his character and highlights the ethical dilemmas he faces in the story.
In today's society, the struggle to maintain personal values and beliefs in the face of adversity is a common theme. This quote from Keith Miller's character, Pica, expresses the internal conflict of choosing between questionable means of survival and staying true to one's principles. The idea of being forced into a situation that goes against one's beliefs is something that many individuals can relate to in various aspects of their lives. Whether it be in a professional setting or personal relationships, the decision to compromise one's values for practicality is a dilemma that continues to be relevant in the modern world.
In this quote from Keith Miller, the character Pica expresses their reluctance to become a thief due to their pacifist beliefs.
“Well, I guess I'll become a thief, then," said Pica unhappily. "though I don't think I'll be much good. I'm a pacifist, you see?” - Keith Miller
In this quote, we see Pica struggling with the idea of resorting to theft out of necessity. As you reflect on this statement, consider the following questions:
“Stories are life," protested Pico. "Without them, books would be only paper and ink, with them they breathe, the reader is drawn in, the stories become him.”
“The writing of poetry is a chancy business, it's currency solitude and loss, its tools coffee and too much wine, its hours midnight, dawn, and dusk, and unlike other trade the hours asleep are not time off.”
“Here's how I'll tell you what I think—if you see white smoke then you know I picked a new pope. And if I'm drinking a Snapple then you know I don't give a shit.”
“the way to love someone is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul until you find a crack, and then gently pour your love into that crack.”
“A city of squalls, foggy mornings, intervals of blue and white so immaculate the eyes ached. A city of readers, coffee drinkers, kissers on sidewalks, sad faces at wet windows. A city of umbrellas, woolen scarves, raincoats, cigarettes, wineglasses, cognac.”
“And he loves to read. He loves the whisper of the pages and the way his fingertips catch on rough paper, the pour of the words up from the leaves, through soft light, into his eyes, the mute voice in his ears.”