Stanton lay on the table, his head pillowed in his arms, while the therapist rubbed and kneaded his muscles. The pleasant sensation formed a background for his thoughts. For the first time, Stanton was seeing the Nipe as an individual—as a person—as a thinking, feeling being.
We have a great deal in common, you and I, he thought. Except that you're a lot worse off than I am.
I'm actually feeling sorry for the poor guy, Stanton thought. Which, I suppose, is a hell of a lot better than feeling sorry for myself. The only real, basic difference between us freaks is that you're more of a freak than I am. "Molly O'Grady and the Colonel's lady are sisters under the skin."
Where'd that come from? Something I learned in school, no doubt—like the snarks and the boojums.
He would answer to Hi! or to any loud cry,
Such as Fry me! or Fritter my wig!
Who was that? The snark? No. The snark had a flavor like that of will-o'-the-wisp. And I must remember to distinguish those that have feathers, and bite, from those that have whiskers, and scratch.
Or can I even call it mine when I can't even use it?
"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."