The Gods Are Fond Of The Cryptic

Moss Grows Where Nothing Else Can Grow. It Grows On Bricks. It Grows On Tree Bark And Roofing Slate. It Grows In The Arctic Circle And In The Balmiest Tropics; It Also Grows On The Fur Of Sloths, On The Backs Of Snails, On Decaying Human Bones. ... It Is A Resurrection Engine. A Single Clump Of Mosses Can Lie Dormant And Dry For Forty Years At A Stretch, And Then Vault Back Again Into Life With A Mere Soaking Of Water.

The Only Place The Mind Will Ever Find Peace Is Inside The Silence Of The Heart. That's Where You Need To Go

If Todd [willingham] Was Guilty Of Anything, It Was Just His Self-preservation. He Got Up And Ran Out Of The House And Then Thought About The Children After The Fact.

A Lot Of [erotica] Was Really Interestingly Disguised In The 19th-century As Medical Journals. So It Would Be In The Voice Of A Learned Doctor Talking About Somebody's Pathologies. And Then It Would Get Really Detailed. And Then It Would Get Really Sweaty. And Then You're Like, "this Isn't A Doctor! I Would Like To See A Degree, Mister!"

What Richard Is Talking About Is Instead Admitting To The Existence Of Negative Thoughts, Understanding Where They Came From And Why They Arrived, And Then - With Great Forgiveness And Fortitude - Dismissing Them.