You, Me, & Your Papa Are 3

I Wish There Really Was Such A Thing As A Time-clock Puncher, Though. I Wish Some Gigantic, Surly, Stone-fisted Soap Mahoney-type Guy Went Around The World Smashing Every Clock In Sight Till There Weren't Any More And People Got So Confused About When To Go To The Mill Or School Or Church That They Gave Up And Did Something Interesting Instead.

To Me, It's A Great Day Every Time I Receive A Letter From Somebody Who Climbed Inside One Of My Books, Inhabited It For A While, Learned A Little Something, And Emerged Grateful.

Everybody Gets Jolted. You, Me, Before We Die We’ll All Get Nailed, Lots Of Times. But That Doesn’t Mean We’ll Get Turned Into Witches. You Can’t Avoid Getting Zapped, But You Can Avoid Passing The Mean Energy On. That’s The Interesting Thing About Witches, The Challenge Of Them-- Learning Not To Hit Back, Or Hit Somebody Else, When They Zap You. You Can Bury The Zap, For Instance, Like The Gods Buried The Titans In The Center Of The Earth. Or You Can Be Like A River When A Forest Fire Hits It--phshhhhhhhhhhhh! Just Drown It, Drown All The Heat And Let It Wash Away.

Ecosystems Are Holy. The Word "environmental" Is A Deadly Compromise Itself. It's A Policy Word That Lives Only In The Head, And Barely There.

I'd Taken A Big Fat Crisis Off My Shoulders And Loaded It All On Jesus, Which Seemed Unfair In A Way, But Was Exactly What The Bible Recommended.