The wisest man in the world
lived at the top of the hill.

It was a woman.

It took him five hours to make the climb,
carrying with him The Book of Intellections.

He handed the volume over.

"What is this great mountain of tosh, O Wise One?" he asked.

She read it.

"It is two things at once; yet neither. It is a story written for children pretending to be for grown-ups, and it is a story written for grown-ups pretending to be for children."

"How can that be?" he asked.

"It cannot," she answered.