Flowers for Algernon

by Daniel Keyes

and it might possibly dull the feeling that I was watching myself through eyes that didn’t understand what I was doing.

Somehow, getting drunk had momentarily broken down the conscious barriers that kept the old Charlie Gordon hidden deep in my mind.

How strange it is that people of honest feelings and sensibility, who would not take advantage of a man born without arms or legs or eyes—how such people think nothing of abusing a man born with low intelligence.

A child may not know how to feed itself, or what to eat, yet it knows hunger.

Does an idiot have an id?”