...my Conscience Has The Same Hard Reality

I Sighed; As Comforting As It May Be To Some Of Us, Sarcasm, Like Youth, Is Wasted On The Young.

A Reasonable Being Might Think That He And I Could Find Some Common Ground; Have A Cup Of Coffee And Compare Our Passengers, Exchange Trade Talk And Chitchat About Dismemberment Techniques. But No: Doakes Wanted Me Dead. And I Found It Difficult To Share His Point Of View.

Our Universe Is Ruled By Random Whim, Inhabited By People Who Laugh At Logic.

Weren't We All Crazy In Our Sleep? What Was Sleep, After All, But The Process By Which We Dumped Our Insanity Into A Dark Subconscious Pit And Came Out On The Other Side Ready To Eat Cereal Instead Of Our Neighbor's Children?

Of Course It Was A Terrible Thing, And The World Would Be A Much Better Place Without Someone In It Who Could Do That, But Did That Mean We Had To Miss Lunch?