One guy was so totally fascinated and intrigued with the idea that two completely different and separate people could ride in the same single automobile, that he put in a heavy buy order for highway stock.
Not long after he died, one of his partners said, “I doubt he’ll ever be the same.”
Culture, to those already cultured, is shackles on posies. Those already cultured think of it for others as in a glorious past that can somehow return and consume their Philistine contemporaries.
One guy, while searching for his brother (who, you may recall, had fallen in a hole while searching for the meaning of life), fell in with a bad crowd who had once held-up a hole. (He asks if we have any advice – “ANY,” he says.)
One man would sometimes pretend that his questions were statements, and that his statements were questions; he became so adroit at this that he was often mistaken for an expert.
While the kid was off playing somewhere, the ole man gave himself this idea: “Say look, if life was ever going to make sense, it would go ahead and do so without men having to go around trying to make it make sense, now wouldn’t it?” (He later thought to himself, “It’s good we can have these little chats.”)