~Do you like him much?
~I told you I like him a little. Where is the use of caring for him so very much? He is full of faults.
~Is he?
~All boys are.
~More than girls?
~Very likely. Wise people say it is folly to think anyboy perfect, and as to likes and diskiles, we should be friendly to all, and worship none.
I went to bed without reading, instead staring out my window with the curtains drawn, wondering about boys. Why did they behave so oddly? One minute their teasing was relentless, and then bam! - they’d stun you with a thoughtful gesture. Either way, their actions made you want to cry. Maybe that was the intent.
There is the scent too. Wonder follows it; wonder about how a boy can smell like that when he probably has no idea. He smells like the woods in the winter or the rain when it first falls, or maybe it’s just the way he always smells and there is no way to define it.
I'm sorry I'm so pathetic," he thought, and then realized he had also said it.
Beth laughed, so lightly and so kindly that Denis felt it in his chest, not his stomach.
Can I tell you a secret?"
Yes, tell me all your secrets Denis kept to himself.
Beth leaned in, whispered: "All boys are pathetic.
It's not macho to read? Nonsense. Reading is a stouthearted activity, disporting courage, keenness, stick-to-itness. It is also, in my experience, one of the most thrilling and enduring delights of life, equal to a home run, a slamdunk, or breaking the four-minute mile.