But I'm afraid it can't be done."Certainly not; it can't be done," repeated the Humbug."Why not?" asked Milo."Why not indeed?" exclaimed the bug, who seemed equally at home on either side of an argument."Much too difficult," replied the king."Of course," emphasized the bug, "much too difficult."You could if you really wanted to," insisted Milo."By all means, if you really wanted to, you could," the Humbug agreed."How?" asked Azaz, glaring at the bug."How?" inquired Milo, looking the same way."A simple task," began the Humbug, suddenly wishing he were somewhere else, "for a brave lad with a stout heart, a steadfast dog, and a serviceable small automobile.
Norton JusterAbout author
- Author's profession: Architect
- Nationality: american
- Born: June 2, 1929
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We burned down rooms. We knew what everything meant. We understood terror and fury as no one else had. It hurt to be together and hurt more to be apart. Our mouths clashed. Our teeth scraped. Our arms ached from the meld. We knew each other's smells and heard each other's voices and told each other things that no one else ever had.
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Man's desire for the approval of his fellows is so strong, his dread of their censure so violent, that he himself has brought his enemy within his gates; and it keeps watch over him, vigilant always in the interests of its master to crush any half-formed desire to break away from the herd.
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