It is usually unbearably painful to read a book by an author who knows way less than you do, unless the book is a novel.

knowledge heartbreak wisdom humor despair sadness pain heartache suffering joke learning novel grief books humour funny understanding awareness realization entertainment book torment sorrow writers escape misery understand narrative education comprehension fiction literature story writer appreciation perception stories ignorance humorous author authors quotes agony mastery know unhappiness scholarship accomplishment satire torture consciousness jokes escapism entertaining capability erudite enlightened aphorism quotations hilarious essay capacity cognition comprehend educated too-much distress skill essays schooling well-read ignorant desolation aphorisms knowledgeable cultivated cultured scholarly well-educated well-informed expertise nonfiction unbearable grasp entertain learned aphorist aphorists command erudition untaught discomfort uneducated narratives sustainable illiterate acceptable account accounts adeptness admissible apprehension be-acquainted-with be-conversant-with be-familiar-with be-up-to-speed-on be-versed-in benighted brookable cognizance endurable expertness have-a-grasp-of have-knowledge-of have-learned have-mastered have-memorized inexperienced insufferable insupportable intolerable knowledgable man-of-letters manageable men-of-letters overpowering proficiency sufferable supportable tolerable unacceptable unendurable unenlightened uninformed unknowledgeable unlearned unlettered unmanageable unread unschooled unsophisticated untrained untutored unworldly via-dolorosa woman-of-letters women-of-letters wretchedness

We are sometimes dragged into a pit of unhappiness by someone else’s opinion that we do not look happy.

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I pulled the sheet off their faces. Their faces were black with coal dust and didn't look like anything was wrong with them except they were dirty. The both of them had smiles on their faces. I thought maybe one of them had told a joke just before they died and, pain and all, they both laughed and ended up with a smile. Probably not true but but it made me feel good to think about it like that, and when the Sister came in I asked her if I could clean their faces and she said, "no, certainly not!" but I said, "ah, c'mon, it's me brother n' father, I want to," and she looked at me and looked at me, and at last she said, "of course, of course, I'll get some soap and water."When the nun came back she helped me. Not doing it, but more like showing me how, and taking to me, saying things like "this is a very handsome man" and "you must have been proud of your brother" when I told her how Charlie Dave would fight for me, and "you're lucky you have another brother"; of course I was, but he was younger and might change, but she talked to me and made it all seem normal, the two of us standing over a dead face and cleaning the grit away. The only other thing I remember a nun ever saying to me was, "Mairead, you get to your seat, this minute!

Look, people, I’m announcing a new rule. It’s going to seem harsh. But it’s necessary.”The word “harsh” got almost everyone’s attention.“We can’t have people sitting around all day playing Wii and watching DVDs. We need people to start working in the fields. So, here’s the thing: everyone age seven or older has to put in three days per week picking fruit or veggies. Then Albert’s going to work with the whole question of freezing stuff that can be frozen, or otherwise preserving stuff.”There was dead silence. And blank stares.“What I’m saying is, tomorrow we’ll have two school buses ready to go. They hold about fifty kids each and we need to have them mostly full because we’re going to pick some melons and it’s a lot of work.”More blank stares.“Okay, let me make this simple: get your brothers and sisters and friends and anyone over age seven and be in the square tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”“But how about—?”“Just be there,” Sam said with less firmness than he’d intended. His frustration was draining away now, replaced by weariness and depression.“Just be there,” someone mimicked in a singsong voice.Sam closed his eyes, and for a moment he almost seemed to be asleep. Then he opened them again and managed a bleak smile. “Please. Be there,” he said quietly.He walked down the three steps and out of the church, knowing in his heart that few would answer his call.