It felt as if it were…what can I say? A fission? An energy? All that mounting storm he carries about his person breaking in beautiful rain. And I thought to myself, This. This sort of battle, this kind of argument, this laughter when we realise we are saying the same thing—this is what I wish from life. In the end, Mr. Pierce read the final lines of the essay: “Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of your principles.” “I’m not certain I fully agree,” I was compelled to answer, “but very well read.” He smiled. I smiled. How wonderful a thing to
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