When a man among kings (I was knighted by one) Where a handle or wheel makes a favorite son Distinguished through time for something he's done, For a knight in his day must his laurels have won. With a band of king's players by Bill Shakespeare led, I played many roles, e'en recalled the dead To piece out my plot or to string out my rhyme, Nor considered it theft, more an honor that time, To borrow a plot for a queen or a king, And watch their amuse as my poor muse would sing. So each time I needed a plot or a play I searched o'er the tomes where musty plots lay Bulging out with ideas from craniums dust, Whose shades may have helped as I now know and trust. But that any one man made a plot or a play, Or was such singled out as a ruse for my pay, I deny in _fac toto_ in spirit this day. Should any man's play be found in my work, Which was not by me writ, 'tis a publisher's quirk; Which one day I'll acclaim; for I mean to read all As signed with my name_." Young Graham was beyond words at this outpouring of verse. The mode of language was not something he could identify with in his everyday world, and it was quite beyond his level of comprehension. But he sensed this was no ordinary man in his presence. "Are you really William Shakespeare?" he ventured forth timidly. "And if you truly are, how could you still be alive hundreds of years after you were born?" "Well, young one," smiled the Bard kindly, "that is a long story...Suffice to say I am here with you having this conversation. And look around you--many of the other passengers are people from your history books. We are en route to our home beyond the outer fringes of Oz. We are graduates of the University of Higher Consciousness, and we are on our way to Historicalfigureland. So much hatred exists in the world you come from, and where there is not exactly hatred per se, there is often indifference or even total apathy for the plight of others. And as if your world were not bad enough with the constant warring between nations, many individuals in so-called civilized lands feel the need to declare war on their neighbors. I am speaking of your young people killing each other for no other reason than that it has become the thing to do. What is so sad is that they totally lack remorse for their victims' pain and suffering and give not the slightest thought to the victims' families left behind in utter and complete desolation and sadness at their terrible loss. Our goal is to find a way to encourage people to reach out to one another--to care for one another. That is why we wrote our books and plays, to teach people what life be truly about."