Sitting makes us think of standingOur current stance keeps on demanding We wish to fly without the wings Puppets move before pulling the strings
Death is a release from the impressions of the senses, and from desires that make us their puppets, and from the vagaries of the mind, and from the hard service of the flesh.
Mom, said Peter, nobody thinks you're a lackwit, if that's what you're worried about.Lackwit? In what musty drawer of some dead English professor's dust-covered desk did you find that word? I assure y...
Orson Scott Card