“Oh well. Chacun à son goût, as they say, which means—” And she stopped me. “Please. Don’t translate. It couldn’t be phrased as well in English.” I h… - Theodore Sturgeon

The only thumbnail you’ll get from me is this: no one knows what’s really wrong with you but you; no one can find a cure for it but you; no one but you can identify it as a cure; and once you find it, no one but you can do anything about it.

I got to my feet and looked around the room. Just a room, only the one door. I tiptoed towards it. When I passed Janie, she opened her eyes.

‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered.

‘None of your business,’ I told her. I went to the door as if I didn’t care, but I watched her. She didn’t do anything. The door was as solid tight closed as when I’d tried it before.

I went back to Janie. She just looked up at me. She wasn’t scared. I told her, ‘I got to go to the john.'

’‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Why’n’t you say so?’

'Suddenly I grunted and grabbed my guts. The feeling I had I can’t begin to talk about. I acted as if it was a pain, but it wasn’t. It was like nothing else that ever happened to me before. Something went splop on the snow outside.'

‘Okay,’ Janie said. ‘Go on back to bed.'

‘But I got to – ’

'You got to what?'

’Nothing.’ It was true. I didn’t have to go no place.

As for the research, much of it was theory and argumentation; the subject, like reincarnation, seemed to attract zealots of the most positive and verbose varieties, both pro and con.