Lamented a man to his mirror: “Ohh, I cannot begin to tell you the many times I have cried and suffered  –  well, sure I could, but you’d just walk away like everyone else!”
Many things which men believe they do individually and in private, they pretend not to see that humanity does collectively and publicly.
“If I’m going to be shot I want it to be in my liver and not in a crowd.”
An ordinary man’s self will-out --  one way or the other,
(but for efficiency’s sake: there is only one way: that of the pretentious, sham individual).
It’s the fish in the schools who claim to be solitary sharks.
If you can actually think on your own  –  you never think to mention it.   Who cares any way.
You’ll never be rich-&-famous by being rich-&-famous among the ordinary.

During a vigorous panel discussion regarding: “Nurture vs. Nature”
vis a vis human development one of the conferees declared:
“Insofar as whether man’s chemistry has any effect on his personality,
I say: Maybe yes  –  and maybe no,” and another attendee leaped to his feet
and exclaimed: “And I say that you are correct  –  TWICE!”

There is, in the routine affairs of ordinary men, an unrealized mathematical ratio between the number of thoughts possible and the number of thoughts thought.

A couple of gods were yacking over a couple of cold ones and the chillier of the two revealed his new, more efficient way of handling The Day Of Reckoning:
“I sit at the big table with the big book and as each recently deceased being approaches to receive my ultimate judgment, I ask his name, then begin repeating it as I appear to be looking for same; I eventually stop, put my finger down firmly on a page, pretend to be reading intently, then I slowly look up at him and gravely shake my head while softly saying: 'You should’ve known  –  you should’ve known.'”
    When something about-covers-it  –  it about covers it.

In the speech of The Giants, there are no conjunctions.

On one world some people have the most fun from the waist down and some from
the neck up, while others call mental escort services and go out in pseudo flames.

They don’t serve kids meals in dreamworld.

This one guy had so many thoughts he had to get his brain to help out.

The more you spend on first-reality the less able you are to afford psychological problems.
There’s act-based, and fact-based, with some kid always trying to steal the ball.

If, as the old proverb says: “The receiver of the booty is as guilty as the thief,”
what does that imply about those who embrace the thoughts of others?

A man says: “It is not so much the crying of poets that bothers me,
but rather their support of one another’s tears.
(It’s bad enough seeing wart hogs one at a time.)”

Any advice that is good is trick advice.

“All pleasure is but skin deep,” said one guy, “And thank god,” added his skin,
(or maybe that was his partner).

The credo of one healer whose practice never caught on was:
“I will treat only what ails you.”
(To survive: the city must operate much more efficiently than that.)
Every bus that goes ten blocks in the city  –  goes twelve.

In man’s second-reality: things are as words present them to be and nothing you can say will change them.  (Other than to whatever degree what you can, will.)
    (“Admit it!  –  nothing is quite as agreeable as man’s mind.”)

Then there’s one guy who tries to blame it all on Life.
          (And one guy’s Guy Permit is said to be under serious review by the authorities.)

To save themselves the generally uncomfortable middle stage of history,
this one land simply forthwith condemned everybody’s property –  everybody’s ideas  –  everybody’s individual feels and then they par-TEED!

Anything thought is somewhere a fait accompli.
(Act 2): “Pa pa, where exactly is, somewhere?”
   “Good question my boy: picture what you think somewhere means  –
     then take it someplace else.”
(Due to the specious conclusiveness of numbers there will be no Act 3.)

“Hey!” yelled one of the Yeah Brothers: “What’s the use in being young
if you don’t have a pig-fuck attitude!”
“Yeah!” cried another: “And what’s the sense in growing up
if it’s gonna make you lose it!”       They both then looked at their remaining sibling who just said: “Oink.”

One chap you never hear of any more constructed an entire, complex
working-philosophy on one word.
    (“Get out!”    No, that’s two.)

In his near super-human desire to do better  --  this one man did.

One fellow says he sometimes feels as though his personal time zone has either
been moved or cancelled.

In a confessional moment one man said:
”Okay, I’ll admit it: I do have some naughty thoughts,” and an out-of-town voice visiting his brain injected: “Why not be truthful: If you have any thoughts,
at least half of them are going to be naughty.”
(The man asked the visitor if he would later like to do-lunch.)

In the midst of an inexplicable fit, one man suddenly became so.

The way to understand man’s second, intangible reality (the one that puts him into a dream state) is not by studying the things of that reality, but by studying what men say about
the things.         An investigation completely unlike any other.

How can a real-deal-man ever be actually sad about his personal life,
for anything he gets into, he was big enough to do so on his own,
and is therefore big enough to find it funny.

Once you understand words, there’s almost nothing anyone can say that will
bother you.

An Auto Insurance Carrier: “As long as more people are not having wrecks than are, I’m financially okay.”
A Carrier Of Neurons: “As long as more of my thoughts are of my doing
rather than my brain’s, I’ve still got a chance.”

A certain king whilst watching tv with several of his Prime (And Budget-Cut) Ministers,
took a close bead on a quite celebrated anchorman who was shown by polls to be
one of the most trusted men in the kingdom and said: “It seems to me that those who want to present the news should be required to make the news.”
When verbal pushing comes to physical shoving, neurons always wish they’d studied intangible jujitsu.

Dance Fact From The City Ballroom.
    On every date,
    someone’s late.
(And on a bathroom wall some wag scrawled:
    “But if you’re big and burly,
    you can come early.”
[The Poetry Police quickly raided the place.])

In a certain realm: being totally responsible is the same as not being responsible at all.
(Arm Wrestling At Noon: Chemistry vs Psychology.)

Graffito found on a neural wall: “What curious notions Life often gives men’s minds
for them to picture progress.”
If you don’t know whether you’re coming-or-going  –  there’s your answer right there;  no need to look further, bruther –  and yet there is the unique joy of verbalization,
for even at the end of a punch line, at the final word in an answer to a question,
you can always continue;
blood will finally run out, but where is a mind incapable of just one more, maybe,
one more, but.
Life clearly knew what it was doing to go for growth, not via man’s body,
but his consciousness          (why don’t you take a hint from Life).

One man had so much fun doing it that he didn’t come back.
(Well, those still here have no way of knowing for sure  –  but many of them suspect he didn’t.)

The cure for all momentary spells of disorientation is to simply remember that everyone lives on the world they believe they live on.
     (“Is that why ordinary men are never lost?  –  even as they say otherwise?”)

The ultimate corruption of acts is facts  –  their salvation, the same.

If you’re still waiting for the final word  –  at least remind yourself that you’re a dunce.