Buddha: there is no chicken. There is only infinite oneness.
Nietzsche: there is no chicken. It is dead.
Keirkegaard: chickens are the manifestation of god's will in fried existence of truth.
Shakespeare: Hath yon flying creature thus offendeth thy mind? Thy heart? Verily I say, thou must pluck feathers of the cockerel lest it sail southward unto the depths of fair Juliet's soul!
Bing Crosby: chickens, got feathers over their skin, buh buh buh buh
Emerson Lake and Palmer: Chick crossed the highway, to get to its father. Its feathers a-flutter, from raising another. Ooooh what a lucky chick, he was!
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