Only He Who Is Without Anything Is

It Came To Mr. Blood, As He Trudged Forward Under The Laden Apple-trees On That Fragrant, Delicious July Morning, That Man—as He Had Long Suspected—was The Vilest Work Of God, And That Only A Fool Would Set Himself Up As A Healer Of A Species That Was Best Exterminated.

A Man Must Sometimes Laugh At Himself Or Go Mad,’ Said He. ‘few Realize It. That Is Why There Are So Many Madmen In The World.

Only Those Become Weary Of Angling Who Bring Nothing To It But The Idea Of Catching Fish.

He Was Born With A Gift Of Laughter And A Sense That The World Was Mad.

But I Like My Madness. There Is A Thrill In It Unknown To Such Sanity As Yours. ~ Book 1, Chapter 9.