In another universe,
on a planet populated entirely by words,
two were talking and the first one said:
"What do you suppose is the true purpose of men?"

Although it may not be true -- or even be true:
On the-highway-of-life, it is those driving junkers who most fear additional dings.
(And the mystic added: "If you can understand this one, then, by god, you can understand what I did in the above story.")

After having what was very likely "a couple too many" at the bar,
Life began bouncing around in a threatening manner right up in man's face,
and said to local conditions, standing just behind him:
"Hold me back now! -- hold me back 'fore I deck this sucker!"

Having instantly lost the verbal battle the moment he replied to that first question asked of him in The Garden (his response to which cost man all that he possessed to that point), Adam had little choice but to concoct some story of a force outside himself whose nefarious chicanery was actually responsible for his fuck-up and downfall.

"Dear God," said the poet,
"in how many ways can thy blessed name be spelled?"
To which The Supreme One replied:
"How many ways can man spell 'excuses'?"
(Which was not the sort of response the scribe had expected.)

One day a couple of foxes were lazing about in the grass, and one of them said: "You ever notice that you have one type of dream if you've eaten meat, and another type if you've been eating vegetation?"
And the other fox turned and looked at him curiously and replied: "What are you -- trying to become a mystic?"
And the first one said: "I was just wondering."
And the second added: "Next thing I know you'll be questioning the whole nature of dreaming!"
And the first one said: "I was just wondering."

Why Ordinary Minds Don't Want To Know The Secret:
The illusionarily sick don't wanna get well!
To them, the whole idea makes no sense!
...and, even if it did, it doesn't strike them as possible.

Yes! -- yet another sane, acceptable, and perfectly logical explanation of
why ordinary men do not have any interest in knowing what The Secret is.
...(And I'm sure this offers comfort and reassurance to all the sick
that nothing of any extraordinary nature will be forcibly required of them.)

One man would habitually hold the top of his pen between his teeth as he would hurriedly attempt to get down in writing the output of his feverish thinking, and, often, when finished, due to the continuing excitement of his mind and his press for time, instead of returning the instrument to its cap in his mouth, he'd stick it in his eye.