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"Thou art God," Mike repeated serenely. "That which groks. Anne is God. I am God. The happy grass are God, Jill groks in beauty always. Jill is God. All shaping and making and creating together—"
He croaked something in Martian and smiled.
As DMT and VMS (Dimethyltryptamine and Valentine Michael Smith) teach us, we’re all God. I’m definitely God, and if you can make the sentio, ergo sum statement – I am aware, therefore I am – then you are Atman, and Atman is Brahman, so you’re God too. Welcome to the club. Please don’t pocket the silverware.
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There comes a time in the life of every human when he must decide to risk "his life, his fortune, and his sacred honor" on an outcome dubious. Those who fail the challenge are merely overgrown children, can never be anything else.
