One day one man said to himself: “I feel strange,”
then pondered whether he meant he felt strange physically, or in some other way,
and if the latter, he asked himself what there was in or about himself
apart from his body to feel anything?!
and thinking about this made him feel even stranger than he had originally
 --  so strange in fact that all sense of strangeness vanished.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Man’s ordinary urge is to construct a mental model of reality in which
every single feature perfectly fits and properly functions –
this urge is unwittingly due to the fact that this is how reality actually is.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Many people think that life is harder than it is,
and many think it is simpler than it is,
but scarcely anyone thinks that it is actually as it is.
 
 

One man talked continually about what he thought he would see
when he finally saw what is really going on;
another man thought about it constantly, trying to imagine what it would be;
a third fellow decided to quit thinking or talking about it until further notice,
and you might say: “Well I don’t see what good that would do!”
(which is certainly your privilege to say   [“Pardon, but did you say, touché?”])
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

There is a place in the certain man’s mind that, while fully conscious,
and verbally aware, can be silent when such would be profitable
(there seems to be no such place in standard men’s minds).
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

If in thoughts you try to calculate the extent of your poverty
you are not yet poor enough to see the sight you are seeking.

There is this one city (area of the mind) which attacks its neighbors every few minutes
of every day  --   and why?  --  why, you wonder –  well,
                                                because of the alternative.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The speaker so addressed the crowd:
“There cannot be, for instance, a thing out in the physical world that men call a cannon until there is the concept of one in here --  in his mind,”
and someone in the throng said: “So how can this jibe with man’s belief in
the objective existence of what he calls, wisdom?”  --
there was a long silence as the speaker appeared to be weighing what had been asked, when in truth, upon hearing it,  he had instantly decided:
“There’s no way in hell I’m gonna step into that one.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Televising the adventures of those trying to find The Secret was once considered  --  but ultimately rejected, based on the possibility that viewers might be taken in by it.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

In an attempt to short circuit his useless circuits once and for all
one man abruptly declared that he had no background or personal history
(“Let ‘em try to deal with that!” he added).
 
 
 
 

A son asked his father:
“Is it, as some believe, proof of man’s immortality,
the fact that his mind can even conceive of such?”
     “More likely, would it not be, that the whole idea of immortality
       was at first metaphorically drawn from the fact that
       the mind never ceases conceiving.”
 

And there is a bus driver in one city whose full actual name seems to be:
His Supreme Royal Highness And Protector Of The Faith,
Prince Malcolm-Mosbury, Lord of Lancaster, Duke Of Percil, est de finitas, --
and whenever anyone would repeat his name, and ask him its origins, he’d say:
“I’m sorry, but listening to you has already put me behind schedule,”
and a reader emails: “Okay, Mr. Slick: let’s see you make this news story into something having to do with the mind and thoughts  --   oops! --  never mind.”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

There was once a ship that under normal operating conditions consisted of
the ship itself along with a captain,
and while the ship could exist without the captain,
the captain could not exist without the ship,
something the ship did not know (since it did not have thoughts),
and neither did the captain  --  BUT!  --  the captain thought he did.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

On one world life decided to hide a certain thing from the creatures there,
and since the thing was watery like  --  life hid it in the water.

Super slippery to ever conclusively grasp is the fact that
anyone who wants you to answer questions about yourself
has not the slightest clue as to what this is actually about.
 
 

This one guy would always have again, the-time-of-his-life
whenever he would experience one of those mini mental deaths common to the few.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One man speculates that the difference between ordinary men,
and the special one chasing the secret is that when it comes to things
sneaky, shifty, unexpected, unprecedented, highly irregular and fabulously irrational,