"But to tell you my story—it is a simple one. You have only got to figure to yourselves a girl in a bedroom with a pen in her hand. She had only to move that pen from left to right—from ten o’clock to one. Then it occurred to her to do what is simple and cheap enough after all—to slip a few of those pages into an envelope, fix a penny stamp in the corner, and drop the envelope into the red box at the corner. It was thus that I became a journalist; and my effort was rewarded on the first day of the following month—a very glorious day it was for me—by a letter from an editor containing a cheque for one pound ten shillings and sixpence. But to show you how little I deserve to be called a professional woman, how little I know of the struggles and difficulties of such lives, I have to admit that instead of spending that sum upon bread and butter, rent, shoes and stockings, or butcher’s bills, I went out and bought a cat—a beautiful cat, a Persian cat, which very soon involved me in bitter disputes with my neighbours." --Virginia Woolf
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This half twin airplane aficionado that I babysit for named Matt proposed this question to a certain teacher of Sunday School: "Where is God?"
Her Answer, both simple and universal enough for a child to grasp without actually really understanding (because, if you get down to it, the question wasn't actually answered) was that "God is everywhere."
Finding the answer insufficient, and perhaps feeling belittled, Matt asked "How did God create himself?"
The teacher was unable to answer this, instead choosing to laugh-and-ignore. I kept my pride on the DL.