Until you've had a woman like her riding you, don't think you can understand the man who has."
I didn't say anything, and I could see he wanted to get back to the hotel. All the way back we were silent.
Am I a genius? I don't think so. Not yet anyway.
As Burt would put it, mocking the euphemisms of educational jargon, I'm exceptional—
a democratic term used to avoid the damning labels of gifted and deprived (which used to mean bright and retarded)
and as soon as exceptional begins to mean anything to anyone they'll change it.
The idea seems to be: use an expression only as long as it doesn't mean anything to anybody.
Exceptional refers to both ends of the spectrum, so all my life I've been exceptional.
Strange about learning; the farther I go the more I see that I never knew even existed.
A short while ago I foolishly thought I could learn everything—all the knowledge in the world.
Now I hope only to be able to know of its existence, and to understand one grain of it. Is there time?
Burt is annoyed with me. He finds me impatient and the others must feel the same.
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