The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure that it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.
[Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms]

Flannery O’Connor raised peacocks, which required, also, a supply of peachickens for the laying of eggs. She speaks frequently of peachickens, which is really just a great word; it completely undercuts the stately exotic-ness of the word “peacock.” In an essay called “The King of the Birds,” O’Connor writes that the peacock “frequently … combines the lifting of his tail with the raising of his voice. He appears to receive through his feet some shock from the center of the earth, which travels upward through him and is released: Eee-ooo-iiI Eee-ooo-ii! To the melancholy this sound is melancholy and to the hysterical it is hysterical. To me it has always sounded like a cheer for an invisible parade.”