Conflictis the gadfly of thought. It stirs us to observation and memory. Itinstigates to invention. It shocks us out of sheeplikepassivity, and sets us at noting and contriving.
The tormentof human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that theself is in prison, its vital force and ‘mangled mind’ leaking away in lonely,wasteful self-conflict.
Girls .. . were allowed to play in the house . . . and boys were sent outdoors. . .Boys ran around in the yard with toy guns going kksshh-kksshh,fighting wars for made-up reasons and arguing about whowas dead, while girls stayed inside and played with dol