At Last

What would it be like to live without consolation, or the desire for consolation? He would never find out, unless he uprooted the consolatory system that had started on the hillside at Saint-Nazaire and then spread to every medicine cabinet, bed and bottle he had come across since; substitutes substituting for substitutes: the system was always more fundamental than its contents, and the mental act more fundamental still. What if memories were just memories, without any consolatory or persecutory power? Would they exist at all, or was it always emotional pressure that summoned images from what was potentially all of experience

saw his parents, who appeared to be the cause of his suffering, as unhappy children with parents who appeared to be the cause of their suffering: there was no one to blame and everyone to help, and those who appeared to deserve the most blame needed the most help

‘In fact,’ said Thomas, ‘you should change your mind, because that’s what it’s for!’

‘I think I’ll just…crash out,’ he said, buried under the debris of contradictions and doomed to regret any choice he made.

Live long and prosper

‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one

He must tell them he was not an organ donor, or they would steal his organs before he was dead. He must stop them

The sophisticated cherish their “syndromes”,’ he continued, ‘and even the most simple-minded fool feels entitled to a “complex”. As if it weren’t ludicrous enough for every child to be “gifted”, they now have to be ill as well: a touch of Asperger’s, a little autism; dyslexia stalks the playground; the poor little gifted things have been “bullied” at school; if they can’t confess to being abused, they must confess to being abusive

‘That’s why we must drop our defences while it’s still a voluntary act,’ said Mary, ‘otherwise they’ll be demolished and we’ll be flooded with nameless horror.’

Not thinking about something is the surest way to remain under its influence.’