Master says: What seems an accident to you may be no accident at all.

Master says: You think it insignificant that you ran short of iron, and yet who knows but that some Higher Necessity arranged precisely for that shortage?

Master says: Again, you see nothing in the availability of brass but a convenient coincidence, yet here too some Provident Harmony entered in and interfered.

Master says: Similarly, in the number of my eyes and legs there surely must lie some profound Mystery of a Higher Order, some Ultimate Meaning.

Master says: And truly, three and five—both are prime numbers; three times five is fifteen, fifteen is one and five, the sum of which is six, and six divided by three is two, the number of my colors for behold, on the left is brass and on the right, iron!

Master says: Mere chance produce a relation of such elegant precision? What nonsense!