We ourselves become the bridges out over the interval that is the world and time. It is a daring thing to fling ourselves out over that void that is … - R. A. Lafferty

Austro, do you know why an obscure Tibetan grammar should suddenly become a hot item in the porno stores?”

“Mr. Sheen, you know I'm not old enough to go into the porno stores.”

“No, but you're old enough to avoid a direct answer to a straight question.

The lad knew a trick for see­ing things in their right size in­stead of in the il­lu­sion that they pro­ject.

I don't regard myself as a Surrealist in the sense of the "Surrealist Manifesto" published by Andre Breton in 1924. To me, that Manifesto is somewhat dated, being a recoil from World War I, and being too heavily Freudian. My own unconscious is more Jungian than Freudian. But if Breton hadn't staked claim to the name, I would probably call myself a Surrealist in the "Remembrance of Things Within" sense, but not in the "world of dream and fantasy joined to the everyday rational world, becoming 'an absolute reality, a surreality'." I suppose that I believe in another sort of a surreality or super-reality, but it would have to be on a wider basis than the encounters of myself and me. As often as not, it is the subconscious that supplies the rational element, and the exterior world that supplies the dream and fantasy feeling.