Even if I had been actively searching for metaphors to describe how I needed to start living my life, in the summer of 2007 when I first read this book, I could not have jumped up and down any more excitedly or cried any more profusely over this strangely moving epic tale of geometrical shapes, masquerading as a children's story. I actually cried probably the first ten times I read it. Then I started doing something I have never done with another book: buying it and giving it to everyone who didn't have a copy, the way scary, overzealous converts do with religious texts. I proselytized the hell out of lift-pull-flop. I thought about ripping up two copies so I could hang every page, in some creative sequential pattern, around some room in my apartment, and then I remembered the zealots and how even they only hang one or two Bible verses or such on a wall, and how it's better to live your philosophy than proclaim it obnoxiously. Live it, and hand out copies of the text, when you think people are ready...