That being the case, he wondered why the leader should not be him.

He had been selfish in trying to keep his language pure; better it had been influenced by another tongue than that it disappear altogether.

most of the dogs resisted the small animals and went for the scraps of human food.

the sheer pleasure of some great thing could not be expressed otherwise,

the others needed him, weak and lowly though he was, to maintain their echelon. This thought, which he shared with no one, instilled in him a sense of his own power. He, Benjy, was in his way as necessary as the leader, for if there is a top there must necessarily be a bottom.

Submissiveness was worth the trouble if one’s submission were rewarded by something valuable: protection, say.

Hope has nothing to do with happiness,

Perfect understanding between beings is no guarantor of happiness. To perfectly understand another’s madness, for instance, is to be mad oneself. The veil that separates earthly beings is, at times, a tragic barrier, but it is also, at times, a great kindness.

At times, sense won out; at times, rhythm; at times, melody. At times, the three things were at war, the way emotion, instinct and intelligence were at war within him. At times, the three were in harmony.