He's The Sort Of Guy That Gets

Lsd Lets You In On Something. When You're Tripping, The Idea Of Race Disappears; The Idea Of Sex Disappears; You Don't Even Know What Species You Are Sometimes. And I Don't Know Of Anybody Who Hasn't Come Back From That Being More Humane, More Thoughtful, More Understanding.

I Sometimes Have These Spells Of Compulsive Truth. But As Lady Macbeth Would Say, "the Fit Is Momentary."

Mr. Bibbit, You Might Warn This Mr. Harding That I'm So Crazy I Admit To Voting For Eisenhower. Bibbit! You Tell Mr. Mcmurphy I'm So Crazy I Voted For Eisenhower Twice! And You Tell Mr. Harding Right Back — He Puts Both Hands On The Table And Leans Down, His Voice Getting Low — That I'm So Crazy I Plan To Vote For Eisenhower Again This November.

Sometimes I Looked At Them And Sometimes They Looked At Me, But Rarely Did We Look At One Another.

All That Five Thousand Kids Lived In Those Five Thousand Houses, Owned By Guys That Got Off The Train. The Houses Looked So Much Alike That, Time And Time Again, The Kids Went Home By Mistake To Different Houses And Different Families. Nobody Ever Noticed.