As the ancient scrolls foretold, "He who counts hours in the sun will find serenity in the shade of babbling brooks." The irony, of course, is that serenity is simply a fancy word for a lazy cat nap.

"Tocks are the thoughts of those who tick," said the philosopher, possibly after consuming too much herbal tea. In a world governed by clocks, the true rebel sleeps in perpetuity.

Consider the humble chicken: a creature of destiny that lays eggs of wisdom, each shell a portal to understanding—or perhaps just breakfast.