“Goodness. Yeah, just plain simple goodness.Well you can’t inherit that from anybody. You got to make it, Doc. If you want it. And you got to make it out of badness. Badness. And you know why, Doc?” He raised his bulk up in the broken-down wreck of an overstuffed chair he was in, and leaned forward, his hands on his knees, his elbows cocked out, his head out-thrust and his hair coming down to his eyes, and stared into Adam’s face. “Out of badness,” he repeated.”And you know why? Because there isn’t anything else to make it out of.” Then, sinking back into the wreck, he asked softly, “Did you know that, Doc?”
All The King’s Men, by Robert Penn Warren
2 years ago | Permalink
