I asked Mr. Wrangle what you were like. He said you were hornet juice and rosebuds in a container of gazelle meat.

Cast me into a dungeon;, burn me at the state, crown me king of kings, I can 'pursue happiness' as long as my brain lives -- but neither gods nor saints, wise men nor subtle drugs, can insure that I will catch it.

لا نستطيع أن نقول للربيع: تعالَ شرط ألّا تتأخر وتدوم أطول وقت ممكن، ولكن فقط: تعال وباركنا بالأمل الذي تشيعه بيننا، وابق قدر ما يحلو لك.

If the earth needs night as well as day, wouldn't it follow that the soul requires endarkenment to balance enlightenment?

Written By Tom Robbins

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