I found this in a trunk somewhere, whoever its author is. But maybe its author in turn found it in another trunk somewhere else:
I am, in some manner, educated, but only in some manner, whatever manner that may be and, whatever manner it may be, I’m educated in it. Or at least they tried to educate me in it, to submit me to its rigours, but while I may not have kicked and screamed in revolt of it and its manner, I don’t think it would be much in the way of true to say I submitted myself to it. Maybe there was the vague appearance of submission, but only vague - not that there was even much if any of an attempt to impart this vagueness.
No, there wasn’t really any genuine sense of submission; just the absence of any particularly pronounced appearance of revolt, which I suppose was worse again - I didn’t even care enough about it and its manner to bother revolting against it. They had nothing to grab hold of – submission or revolt, and so, naturally, animosity mounted. On their part that is. I didn't care enough to rise to animosity
And who is it in any case needs to go making a drama of his lack of submission? I suppose he who does need has to make a show of not submitting now so as to submit all the more later - the formalities completed, dignity intact, now we can proceed . . .
The young man revolting and the people trying to harness him and his revolts - they're intimately bound, you can be sure there's an affection in there somewhere, maybe even the most intense of ones.With me though there were no such bonds.