I Capture the Castle

by Dodie Smith

Of course, what my mind’s eye was trying to tell me was that the Vicar and Miss Marcy had managed to by-pass the suffering that comes to most people — he by his religion, she by her kindness to others. And it came to me that if one does that, one is liable to miss too much along with the suffering — perhaps, in a way, life itself. Is that why Miss Marcy seems so young for her age — why the Vicar, in spite of all his cleverness, has that look of an elderly baby? I said aloud: “I don’t want to miss anything.” And then misery came rushing back like a river that has been dammed up. I tried to open my heart to it, to welcome it as a part of my life’s experience, and at first that made it easier to bear. Then it got worse than ever before — it was physical as well as mental, my heart and ribs and shoulders and chest, even my arms, ached.

Ugh. Teenagers.