"Uh huh," he agreed. "That's our Pat.  She believes it only when I tell her - with proper emphasis.  But, Jill, there are only three places to look.  Science - and I was taught more about how the physical universe is put together while I was still in the nest than human scientists can yet handle.  So much that I can't even talk to them... even about as elementary a gimmick as levitation.  I'm not disparaging human scientists... what they do and how they go about it is just as it should be; I grok that fully.  But what they are after is not what I am looking for - you don't grok a desert by counting its grains of sand.  Then there's philosophy - supposed to tackle everything.  Does it?  All any philosopher ever comes out with is exactly what be walked in with - except for those self-deluders who prove their assumptions by their conclusions, in a circle.  Like Kant.  Like many other tail-chasers.  So the answer, if it's anywhere, ought to be here." He waved at the pile of religious books. "Only it's not.  Bits and pieces that grok true, but never a pattern - or if there is a pattern, every time, without fail, they ask you to take the hard part on faith.  Faith!  What a dirty Anglo-Saxon monosyllable - Jill, how does it happen that you didn't mention that one when you were teaching me the words that mustn't be used in polite company?"