Dodger

Young man, the games we play are lessons we learn. The assumptions we make, things we ignore, and things we change make us what we become.

Money makes people rich; it is a fallacy to think it makes them better, or even that it makes them worse. People are what they do, and what they leave behind.

As for me, some days I believe in God, and some days I do not." Then Dodger said, “Is that allowed?” Solomon pushed the door open and then fussily began locking it up again behind him. "Dodger, you fail to understand the unique arrangements between Jewish people and God.

There were two ways of looking at the world, but only one when you are starving.

The games we play are lessons we learn. The assumptions we make, things we ignore, and things we change make us what we become.

After my wife was killed in that pogrom in Russia, I came to England with only my tools, and when I saw the white cliffs of Dover, alone without my wife, I said, "God, today I don’t believe in you anymore." "What did God say?" Dodger had asked. Solomon had sighed theatrically, as if he had been put upon by the question, and then smiled and said, “Mmm, God said to me, ‘I understand, Solomon; let me know when you change your mind.

The man gave Dodger a cursory glance that had quite a lot of curse in it.

. . . had decided what to do, which was to smile like the morning sun with a knife in its teeth.

Mmmm, as I recall, if you go around telling people that they are downtrodden, you tend to make two separate enemies: the people who are doing the downtreading and have no intention of stopping, and the people who are downtrodden, but nevertheless -- people being who they are -- don't want to know. They can get quite nasty about it.

Anyone can rise if they have enough yeast.

The thing about secrets is that they are usually best kept by just one person. That was the special thing about secrets. Some people seemed to think that the best way to keep a secret was to tell as many people as possible; what could possibly go wrong for a secret when there were so many people defending it?

[...]all men are writers, journalists scribbling within their skulls the narrative of what they see and hear[...]

And on this dirty night there were appropriately dirty deeds that not even the rain could wash away.

The whole of life was a game. But if it was a game, then were you the player or were you the pawn?

the truth is a fog, in which one man sees the heavenly host and the other one sees a flying elephant.

People are what they do, and what they leave behind

Sir, sometimes I feel there are no heroes, no villains. Just men, ordinary men locked up by circumstances, good or bad. This I truly believe, and I suggest that you believe it too.

... responsibilities are the anvil on which a man is forged.

Dodger, who had the eye for this sort of thing, watched the families and watched their faces and watched how they spoke to one another, and sometimes it seemed to him that although the man was the master, which was of course only right and proper, if you watched and listened, you would see that their marriage was like a barge on the river, with the wife being the wind that told the captain which way the barge would sail. Mrs. Mayhew, if not being the wind, certainly knew when to apply the right puff.

Dodger made haste towards the house of the Mayhews while in his mind he saw the cheerful face and hooked nose of Mister Punch, beating his wife, beating the policeman and throwing the baby away, which made all the children laugh. Why was that funny, he thought? Was that funny at all? He’d lived for seventeen years on the streets, and so he knew that, funny or not, it was real. Not all the time, of course, but often when people had been brought down so low that they could think of nothing better to do than punch: punch the wife, punch the child and then, sooner or later, endeavour to punch the hangman, although that was the punch that never landed and, oh how the children laughed at Mister Punch! But Simplicity wasn't laughing...

[...]sometimes it seemed to him that although the man was the master, which was of course only right and proper, if you watched and listened, you would see that their marriage was like a barge on the river, with the wife being the wind that told the captain which way the barge would sail. Mrs. Mayhew, if not being the wind, certainly knew when to apply the right puff.

After all, my young Dodger, what exactly are you? A stalwart young man, plucky and brave and apparently without fear? Or, possibly, I suggest, a street urchin with a surfeit of animal cunning and the luck of Beelzebub himself.

In that sense, all men are writers, journalists scribbling within their skulls the narrative of what they see and hear, notwithstanding that a man sitting opposite them might very well brew an entirely different view as to the nature of the occurrence.

. . . and what are you exactly, my friend? Their subordinate? Their employee? Or, I would suggest, their equal? That's what young Karl would certainly have said, and probably still does. Unless he's no longer alive.' Dodger gave Solomon and strange look and Solomon hastened to clarify. "'Mmmm, as I recall, if you go around telling people that they are downtrodden, you tend to make two separate enemies: the people who are doing the downtreading and have no intention of stopping, and the people who are downtrodden, but nevertheless -- people being who they are -- don't want to know. They can get quite nasty about it.' (205)

one of the reasons I'm talking to you now is to tell you that whatever you may be planning, you must not break the law. Since I have just now stepped out of this room and any voice you may be hearing cannot possibly be mine, I must however point out to you that there are times when the law may be somewhat...flexible.

This somewhat surprised Dodger; no one had offered him a prayer before, as far as he could recall. The idea that he might have one was, on this chilly night, a welcome warmth. Cuddling that to his bosom, he led Onan up the longs stairs to bed.

Government thinks mostly about all of the people -- they are not very good at individuals.

We know what our enemies are thinking; it's friends you have to be careful of.

... it is to your credit that you recognize that if he was a monster then it was other monstrous things which made him so. The iron forged on the anvil cannot be blamed for the hammer...

It was like some great big spring was tugging at him - and maybe, perhaps sooner rather than later, a boy has to decide what kind of man he is going to be. Is he going to be a player, or a playing piece...?