Since We Don't Know Where We're Going,

The '60s Aren't Over; They Won't Be Over Until The Fat Lady Gets High.

You Don't Plow Under The Corn Because The Seed Was Planted With A Neighbor's Shovel.

You’re Just A Young Kid. What Are You Doin’ Here? You Oughta Be Out In A Convertible, Why… Bird-doggin’ Chicks And Bangin’ Beaver. What Are Ya Doin’ Here, For Christ’s Sake? What’s Funny About That? Jesus, I Mean, You Guys Do Nothin’ But Complain About How You Can’t Stand It In This Place Here And Then You Haven’t Got The Guts Just To Walk Out!

But If The Strength Ain't Real, I Recall Thinking The Very Last Thing That Day, Before I Finally Passed Out, Then The Weakness Sure Enough Is. Weakness Is True And Real. I Used To Accuse The Kid Of Faking His Weakness. But Faking Proves The Weakness Is Real. Or You Wouldn't Be So Weak As To Fake It. No, You Can't Ever Fake Being Weak. You Can Only Fake Being Strong. . .

Mr. Bibbit, You Might Warn This Mr. Harding That I'm So Crazy I Admit To Voting For Eisenhower. Bibbit! You Tell Mr. Mcmurphy I'm So Crazy I Voted For Eisenhower Twice! And You Tell Mr. Harding Right Back — He Puts Both Hands On The Table And Leans Down, His Voice Getting Low — That I'm So Crazy I Plan To Vote For Eisenhower Again This November.