There is perhaps an old sorehead somewhere attempting rehab of his views
based on a recent book title seen: “Giving Reality One More Chance.”
Many are those with complaints with life  --
but who never mention the many good reasons life could voice about them.
A favorite sport of kids is wrangling over: “Who started it.”
    “Yeah, and gods too.”
 

Advised a father a son: “Stay young  --  for it is then that you truly live  --
                                           --  when you have not yet started to think about it.”
 

The Way Things Work: Part Six Hundred and Ninety Four (At Least).
The more important are taken to be the concoctions of man’s mind,
the more important they become.
Fact: This simple fact is not seen by men.
Fact-Fact: It can’t be allowed! --
                    not if things are going to continue working as they do now.
Then suddenly! --  from the great faceless crowd in the prison yard
came the exhilarating and inspiring rallying cry:
“On the count of three  --  let’s all be BITTER!”
Fairly Tale. Upon a time was a magical land where no fault with lions was found
for their roars, nor with eagles for their droppings;
then the Big Doofus Giant  came along and stomped all over the place.  The End.
Fact: The end of any narrative signals the beginning of a new one.
Fact-Fact: All narratives are the same to the real-deal-reader;
                   only dirt changes from place to place and time to time.
“Pa pa: is that why the-man-who-knows is sometimes called:
‘He Taking A Ground Vacation?’”
 

One guy’s tentative conclusion: “Every day is the same old crap  --
                                                          when you are full of  the same old crap.”
His twin then inquired how you rid your insides of the crap you seem to have been  born with  --  and the guy became even more tentative.
 

For all of the problems and questions men find inherent to human existence  --
there are no solutions or answers --  until you say  that there are.
(Publisher’s Come Cleanery: This is a trick sentence.)
 

Three Voices.
First: “My advice is: Carry not an umbrella  --  it invites rain.”
Second: “But rain needs no invitation from man."
Third: “Neither apparently does advice.”
 

One man holds as his living epitaph:
“A certain-thing I hoped to be  --  and not yet am --
                    is the only thing left that bedevils me.”
 

Travel News.
To catch-on to what is going-on requires that in a quite real sense you take a vacation from yourself – an idea which, on its face is impossible (or worse)  --  nevertheless: something fitting that description is necessary to ever see
what is actually taking place behind the scenes that men’s native-born,
collectively-based consciousness presents to them as accurate representations
of the human experience.
Since the whole idea of a holiday being a time to get away from yourself
is clearly impossible, it certainly cannot be taught  --
hell!  -- it can just barely be ferreted out on one’s own.
    (“One’s own what?”
Cute.
    “Why, thank you.”)
Fact: Everyone enjoys a pleasant conversation with their self  --
the real-deal-man however insists it be of maximum pleasantry.
Fact-Fact: Only the pleasing is informative.
    (“Man!  --  that sounds like something I should solidly disagree with!”
           Don’t it.)
Always remember, boys and girls: humans' most favorite prison game.          "Yea-a-a-a-!"
 

Everyone departs the same bus on which they began;
everyone departs the bus at the same place where they began   --
but from the other side of  the bus.
 

Just as even the fairest of women is neither beautiful nor not,
without the appreciation of a man,
so too the so-called, imagined Truth,
without the specially prepared mind to perceive it.
In different words: There is no Enlightenment: only some one to achieve it:
that is the secret Big Truth that none can see until the moment after they see it.
 

The only reason anyone but farmers and miners talk is to be popular.
(“At least thank god, you didn’t say; ‘Is in a pathetic attempt to be…’”)
 

The one talent that counts with the certain man is one which can never be seen.
 

Everything ordinary eyes/I’s hold as beautiful, is for the few,
but a prelude to what is always over the horizon:
beyond the present scope of present sized consciousness.
 

In one city a law was passed that permitted:  “Only thinkers to drink” --
it proved to be the shortest lived legislation in the history of the universe.
 

One thing that everyone understands is that any story involving them is interesting.
 

Do note: life’s sacrifice OF us --  THROUGH us  --  in the name of some higher-cause
is actually for the purpose of continuity and has nothing to do with you individually.
    (“Is this why death is the one event that no one takes personally?!”)
 

Beauty is as smelt as seen.
 

While he would never respond to questions concerning motivation:
the real-deal-man does things only because he wants to;
the difference between him and everyone else is that he knows and
acknowledges this privately within himself.
 

That CertainThing sought by the few is as felt as seen.