The Cell Door Slammed Behind Rubishov.

We Cannot Unthink Unless We Are Insane.

Every Creative Act – In Science, Art, Or Religion – Involves A Regression To A More Primitive Level, A New Innocence Of Perception Liberated From The Cataract Of Accepted Beliefs.

Zen Is To Religion What A Japanese "rock Garden" Is To A Garden. Zen Knows No God, No Afterlife, No Good And No Evil, As The Rock-garden Knows No Flowers, Herbs Or Shrubs. It Has No Doctrine Or Holy Writ: Its Teaching Is Transmitted Mainly In The Form Of Parables As Ambiguous As The Pebbles In The Rock-garden Which Symbolise Now A Mountain, Now A Fleeting Tiger. When A Disciple Asks "what Is Zen?", The Master's Traditional Answer Is "three Pounds Of Flax" Or "a Decaying Noodle" Or "a Toilet Stick" Or A Whack On The Pupil's Head.

Without The Hard Little Bits Of Marble Which Are Called 'facts' Or 'data' One Cannot Compose A Mosaic; What Matters, However, Are Not So Much The Individual Bits, But The Successive Patterns Into Which You Arrange Them, Then Break Them Up And Rearrange Them.

In The Meantime, The Educated Public Continues To Believe That Darwin Has Provided All The Relevant Answers By The Magic Formula Of Random Mutations Plus Natural Selection -quite Unaware Of The Fact That Random Mutations Turned Out To Be Irrelevant And Natural Selection Tautology.