But I fear that I also underestimate the stupidity of the rest of mankind. Are we absolutely sure that we ought to win this war?

Reading dreams. That's what started her walking down the road. Every day she'd walk a little further: a mile$$$ and come home. Two miles$$$ and come home. One day she just kept on.

She was never without dark glasses$$$ she was always well groomed$$$ there was a consequential good taste in the plainness of her clothes$$$ the blues and grays and lack of luster that made her$$$ herself$$$ shine so.

His dreams were clear blue.

Think of nothing things$$$ think of wind.

A sensible question$$$ as Mrs. Clare$$$ an admirer of logic$$$ though a curious interpreter of it$$$ was driven to admit.

The mill owner's wife persisted. "A dollar$$$ my foot! Fifty cents. That's my last offer." "Goodness$$$ woman$$$ you can get another one." In answer$$$ my friend gently reflects: "I doubt it. There's never two of anything."

Ender didn't like fighting. He didn't like Peter's kind$$$ the strong against the weak$$$ and he didn't like his own kind either$$$ the smart against the stupid.

We need a Napoleon. An Alexander. Except that Napoleon lost in the end$$$ and Alexander flamed out and died young. We need a Julius Caesar$$$ except that he made himself a dictator$$$ and died for it.

We thought we were the only thinking beings in the universe$$$ until we met you$$$ but never did we dream that thought could arise from the lonely animals who cannot dream each other's dreams.