It's simple. Nothing exists except in relation to something else.
If the other fellow can't tell you his story, you can never be sure he isn't trying to kill you.
Twisted and perverse are the ways of the human mind," Jane intoned. "Pinocchio was such a dolt to try to become a real boy. He was much better off with a wooden head.
He is dead, she thought bitterly, because we have forgotten him.
Human: That's stupid. Isn't there grass on both sides?
There's a reason why every human society has fiction. It teaches us how to be 'good,' to behave in a way that is for the benefit of the whole community.