One guy says:
“The man trying to get to the bottom of things is the sort who would turn to
the last page of a score to see how the symphony is going to end.”
One local god loves to pull out his mandolin and sing the tag line of a certain song,
over and over:
    “People don’t you lay that shit on,
      people don’t you lay that shit on,
      people don’t you lay that shit on me.”
(Which commonly drives the people to whip out their banjos and try to beat him at his game,
inserting his name where he had theirs.
[Consciousness sure can have fun just fooling around with itself.])
 
 

Cows won’t pay attention to what is said unless it includes verbal kicks to the udders
of cows with whom they disagree on important spiritual, cultural and political matters.
 
 

One guy says: “The world is divided into two groups: fanatics and dolts:
fanatics are idiots who believe in some verbal philosophy they’ve heard,
and dolts are idiots who believe only in their own stomach and pelvis:
these are the two groups that make up mankind.”          (That’s what he says.)
 
 

Just as every intelligent person understands the essential closeness of
cops to criminals, priests to transgressors, psychiatrists to their patients  –
so likewise do those asleep only take umbrage at their being asleep.
 
 

Corollary To The Above Two Stories.
Ordinary consciousness only displays passion about things imaginary.
Regardless of how you begin: if you enter a race and expect to ever finish,
you must ultimately run in your own shoes;
if your inner foot ever steps over the completion line
it will be in your own neural nikes.
 
 

One man, after carefully considering the cost of having brand new thoughts
(or even of refurbishing his old ones)
decided to give a business name to his everyday mental efforts:
he began referring to them as: The Necessary Overhead Corporation.
 
 

In prison (and under all other civilized circumstances): a breach of habit
is the ultimate breach of the peace.
 
 

A predictable ruler can make even taxation sound unexciting.
(A prince said to his father: “The biggest mistake I ever made was having a man hung who had just taken a laxative.”)
 
 

When men seek entertainment in the city what they're really after is
something for their consciousness to waste its time on besides itself.
 
 

After blowing out his neural spit valve, the ole bopster growled to the kid:
“Playing clichés in a different key still can’t cover up the taste of the tripe.”
 
 

In the city: for a ritual to strike the people as having cultural or spiritual significance,
the primary requirement is that it be silly.
     “Why should it be thus?”
See that one for yourself and your eyes will instantly lose a hundred pounds
of unsightly fat.
 
 

A fellow with an irritable tonsorial trim has this to say:
“Don’t try to jive me! –  history, tradition, antiquity –  hell!  –
all the past ain’t nothing but a bunch of damn connections.”
(Another chap by the way, claims to have developed moveable, fungible hair;
he says he’s hoping in the future to extend his technology even deeper.)
 
 

Maps covering areas that are without physical substance are the only ones
the city provides.
If you’re not actually going anywhere, the directions you clutch are irrelevant anyhow.
(Note: To a man still run primarily by instinct: everything other than food, sex, sleep,
            and predictable thinking is irrelevant.)
 
 

Everyone looks for an excuse (or at least an explanation) for what they do  –
everyone but the man who knows.
 
 

Poverty = Freedom, in every sense you can think of  –   and then some,
but in a sense that only the certain man can fully grasp.
 
 

The certain man on his self constructed, neural front porch,
in spite of the sometimes interesting features of the never ending flow of
chemical traffic past his door,
has gained too many insights to allow his attention to leave and chase thereafter.
 
 

If you make it to the Super Prize Round and you’re offered as the grand prize
your choice of either a larger brain or a bigger heart,
firmly respond: “What in the hell are you people talking about?!  –   are you insane!”
 
 

If we lived in a better reality:
proverbs would be to behavior as they should be to thinking.
 
 

Conditions are just conditions, it is a person's consciousness that turns them into their individual news.