Someone jostled him on the pavement. 'I won't get angry,' he thought. 'I'm like the father of a sick child, walking with short steps in the crowd. Within him he carries the hushed silence of his house.'
He looked at the people around him, seeking to recognise those among them who with little steps were out walking their invention or their love; and he thought of the loneliness of lighthouse keepers.
[Night Flight, Saint-Exupery, A. d.]