A man was crucified. He came to the city a stranger,
was accused, and nailed to a cross. He lingered hanging.
Laughed at the crowd. "The nails are iron," he
said, "You are cheap. In my country when we crucify
we use silver nails..." So he went jeering. They
did not understand him at first. Later they talked about
him in changed voices in the saloons, bowling alleys, and
churches. It came over them every man is crucified
only once in his life and the law of humanity dictates
silver nails be used for the job. A statue was erected
to him in a public square. Not having gathered his
name when he was among them, they wrote him as John
Silvernail on the statue.

You know when you put on glasses
and realize that you've been looking at the world
with slightly blurred edges?
Thats how I feel when I look at the stars,
like the world around me is blurred,
But the stars, oh the stars
are clear, and vast, and beautiful.
They make me realize
how dull my world is,
and how awfully boring
I must be to the rest of the universe.