To Hell With Facts! We Need Stories.

The Raw Materials Of Reality Without The Glue Of Time Are Materials Adrift And Reality Is As Meaningless As The Balsa Parts Of A Model Airplane Scattered To The Wind.

People Think Love Is An Emotion. Love Is Good Sense.

We Think We’re In The Present, But We Aren't. The Present We Know Is Only A Movie Of The Past.

The Flock Gets Sight Of A Spot Of Blood On Some Chicken And They All Go To Peckin' At It, See, Till They Rip The Chicken To Shreds, Blood And Bones And Feathers. But Usually A Couple Of The Flock Gets Spotted In The Fracas, Then It's Their Turn. And A Few More Gets Spots And Gets Pecked To Death, And More And More. Oh, A Peckin' Party Can Wipe Out The Whole Flock In A Matter Of A Few Hours, Buddy, I Seen It. A Mighty Awesome Sight. The Only Way To Prevent It—with Chickens—is To Clip Blinders On Them. So's They Can't See.

Marvelous Wonders Don't Have To Happen Of A Sudden, The Way They Do In The Arabian Nights. They Can Also Take A Long Time, Like Crystals Growing, Or Minds Changing, Or Leaves Turning. The Trick Is To Keep An Eye Peeled, So They Don't Slip By Unappreciated.