"There is no substitute for character and you never know where you'll find it."

The miracles Pop talks about, eggs from chickens, flour from grain, the way cows eat grass and clover and turn them into milk, which in turn gets churned into butter- for the first time I understand what he meant, "the confoundedness of it all," how everything in a room including the room, can be traced back to something else, the daily miracles taken for granted.