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I'm not going to complain that God says "insignias" in this book; after all, they say Latin is a dead language. What pains me are passages like the following: "In the beginning, that which Is is all there was, and there was nothing else. Yet All That Is could not know itself- because All That Is is all there was, and there was nothing else. And so, All That Is ... was not. For in the absence of something else, All That Is, is not. ....In the absence of that which is not, that which IS, is not. Do you understand this? I think so. Keep going. Alright. ....three elements suddenly existed: that which is here. That which is there. And that which is neither here nor there-but which must exist for here and there to exist.... Can you understand this? Are you following this? I think I am, actually. Believe it or not, you have used such a clear illustration that I think I'm actually understanding this." Now keeping in mind that Walsch was once in advertising, where anything, no matter how off-the-wall, can seem real, perhaps this is an honest statement on his part. What is certain is that reading this book is like reading the "National Enquirer": it's impossible to satirize because the original is so bad already that any satire sounds like the thing itself. This book is not merely the Dick, Jane, and Sally of spiritual literature. It's Dick, Jane, and Sally pretending to pass itself off as one of the dialogues of Plato. It is so abysmally, absurdly bad as to beggar description. If someone has never read the Hebrew or Christian Scriptures, never read any of the Koran, never read any of the discourses of Buddha, never, for that matter, read any of Sartre--such a person might think this book is profound. And that, friend, is pretty darn scary.