We want him to take us on a magic carpet ride. If we get to Kentucky, who knows?

We want him to take us on a magic carpet ride. We're going to need a big effort.

We're not born to be wild, but we want him to take us on a magic carpet ride.

I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness―in a landscape selected at random―is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern―to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal.

Imagination is the true magic carpet.

If Lawyer Ron runs his race, then we're all probably running for second. He's been very impressive.