It turns out there’s only one thing that capuchins really, really love – and that’s sweet stuff. If you give them a big vat of say, marshmallow fluff, and you let them go at it.
As surely as you are a living man, so surely did that spectral anatomy visit my room again last night, grin in my face, and walk away with my trousers: nor was I able to spring from my bed, or break the chain which seemed to bind me to my pillow.
Thinking in words slows you down and actually decreases comprehension in much the same way as walking a tightrope too slowly makes one lose one’s balance.
