Manuel L. Quezon III has written a brilliant essay on his book-filled childhood, without cynicism and full of faith:
http://archive.inquirer.net/view.php?db=0&story_id=55017
This excerpt, on the drudgery of formal education, makes me smile: "What sort of a life is this, I perpetually asked myself, that condemns us to be trained, like little dogs, to urinate ink on pieces of paper, and then to derive satisfaction from being praised for the performance?"
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