Everyone Is Reading What They Like And

Several Sellers Of Hot Meat Pies And Sausages In A Bun Had Appeared From Nowhere And Were Doing A Brisk Trade. [footnote: They Always Do, Everywhere. No-one Sees Them Arrive. The Logical Explaination Is That The Franchise Includes The Stall, The Paper Hat And A Small Gas-powered Time Machine.]

If You Put Butter And Salt On It, It Tastes Like Salty Butter.

One Minute I'm Just Another Rabbit And Happy About It, Next Minute *whazaam*, I'm Thinking. That's A Major Drawback If You're Looking For Happiness As A Rabbit, Let Me Tell You. You Want Grass And Sex, Not Thoughts Like 'what's It All About, When You Get Right Down To It?'

The Theater Troubled Her. It Had A Magic Of Its Own, One That Didn’t Belong To Her, One That Wasn’t In Her Control. It Changed The World, And Said Things Were Otherwise Than They Were. And It Was Worse Than That. It Was Magic That Didn’t Belong To Magical People. It Was Commanded By Ordinary People, Who Didn’t Know The Rules. They Altered The World Because It Sounded Better.

God Moves In Extremely Mysterious, Not To Say, Circuitous Ways. God Does Not Play Dice With The Universe; He Plays An Ineffable Game Of His Own Devising, Which Might Be Compared, From The Perspective Of Any Of The Other Players, Ie., Everybody, To Being Involved In An Obscure And Complex Version Of Poker In A Pitch-dark Room, With Blank Cards, For Infinite Stakes, With A Dealer Who Won't Tell You The Rules, And Who Smiles All The Time.