Flowers for Algernon

There was something about you that made us respect you—yes, even as you were. You had something I had never seen in a retarded person before."
"I don't regret the experiment."
"Neither do I, but you've lost something you had before. You had a smile..."
"An empty, stupid smile."
"No, a warm, real smile, because you wanted people to like you."
"And they played tricks on me, and laughed at me."
"Yes, but even though you didn't understand why they were laughing, you sensed that if they could laugh at you they would like you. And you wanted them to like you. You acted like a child and you even laughed at yourself along with them."

P.S. please if you get a chanse put some flowrs on Algernons grave in the bak yard.

It's not just because of the nightmares; it's because I'm afraid of letting go.

With all the things I had learned—in all the languages I had mastered—all I could say to her, standing on the porch staring at me, was, "Maaaa." Like a dry-mouthed lamb at the udder.

Who's to say that my light is better than your darkness?

I present it to you as a hypothesis: Intelligence without the ability to give and receive affection leads to mental and moral breakdown, to neurosis, and possibly even psychosis

intelligence alone doesn't mean a damned thing

and I've discovered that nobody really cares about Charlie Gordon, whether he's a moron or a genius. So what difference does it make?

There is no greater joy than the burst of solution to a problem.

as she was concerned there was nothing more valuable to the human body than sunbathing, and that nudist colonies were the answer to the world's moral problems.