他们像陷阱门上的蜘蛛一样奸诈，伏击着孩子们的纯真。“为什么光里有光?”这不公平!”佛陀宣称世界是虚幻的，是心灵的声音。萨特对来自法国的上帝说过同样的话，沉默的奥林匹斯山的信件，n'est -ce pas?礼貌就像“你好吗?”一样隐藏了“我不在乎”。物理学断言，我倚着的桌子，拨弄我头发的刷子，都只是标点符号，它们完全像gnome里的g音，伍斯特郡里的c音。激情潜伏在圣人的床下，无声如爱的终结。他们向我们走来，黄色的眼睛闪闪发光，安静得像仇恨、恶意和蛇的终结。就像预测地衣、合唱、列支敦士登的h一样容易，就像法律禁止老鼠在空旷的街道上掉头一样容易。 Such nonsense must be memorized. "Imagine dropkicking a spud," Dad said. "If e breaks off your toe, it spoils your potato." Like compass needles pointing north, silent letters show the power of hidden things. Voiced by our ancestors, but heard no more, they nudge our thoughts toward death, infinity, our senses' inability to see the earth as round, circling the sun in a universe implacable as "Might Makes Right," ineffable as tomorrow's second r, incomprehensible as imbroglio's g, the e that finishes inscrutable, imponderable, immense, the terrifying k in "I don't know."