Inside every sane person there’s a madman struggling to get out.

There’s no point in believing in things that exist.

The universe clearly operates for the benefit of humanity. This can be readily seen from the convenient way the sun comes up in the morning, when people are ready to start the day.

For the first time in her life Granny wondered whether there might be something important in all these books people were setting store by these days, although she was opposed to books on strict moral grounds, since she had heard that many of them were written by dead people and therefore it stood to reason reading them would be as bad as necromancy. Among the many things in the infinitely varied universe with which Granny did not hold was talking to dead people, who by all accounts had enough troubles of their own.

Not all questions are answered, but fortunately some answers are questioned.

The only really sane person in there is Igor, and possibly the turnip. And I'm not sure about the turnip.

I dare say that quite a few people have contemplated death for reasons that much later seemed to them to be quite minor.