The Pigeon

Whatever came within his field of vision Jonathan coated with the vile patina of his hate.

If this one, most essential freedom was taken from you, the freedom, that is, to withdraw from other people when necessity called, then all other freedoms were worthless. Then life had no more meaning. Then it would be better to be dead.

No human being can go on living in the same house with a pigeon, a pigeon is the epitome of chaos and anarchy.

He had found his way to sphinxlike imperturbability.

A guard was like a sphinx. He functioned not by some deed, but rather by his mere bodily presence.

With one glance he had got himself trapped in the brown fundament of her eyes, he was in danger of sinking, as if into a soft, brown swamp, and had to close his eyes for a second to get out of it.

The horrible, oppressive, vaporous, pigeon blue-gray sky.

He felt only the sentiment that is generally termed tolerance: a very lukewarm emotional stew of disgust, contempt, and sympathy.