Suppose the perfect student could make a mistake: he sat down on the toilet to take a shit and forgot to take off his underwear. He takes a shit, but it feels weird on his ass. He thinks about it; he thinks he's followed all the right steps. He wipes his ass and looks at the toilet paper; it's totally clean. He thinks it must be one of those clean shits. He tries to rewind in his mind and remember all the steps. He wipes his ass again because it still feels funny, but the toilet paper's clean. He pulls up his pants and comes out smiling like he's completed another task successfully. Everyone looks at the perfect student with a renewed disgust.
          That's you. That's how you live your life—like a robot trying to do what's right. Like a robot programmed to be a good person. You don't know anything by how it feels. Not shit on your ass and not my heart. You're tireless and truthful and have a good memory, but I don't want to program you. I can't. I won't.