It was a life of adventure, not a 9 to 5 job. Treasures were discovered, tragedies hit. Nonetheless, the philosopher proved it all to be equal in the end. But for the trade, said the adventurer of thought … But for the trade, only one of us would only be telling tales, but only one of us would know that.
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Indentured Fate: We are made up of the little, consecutive pieces whose contingent intelligible renderings depend upon survival, not consistent intelligibility. Faith is a final transaction, where all of one’s prior insurance payments are to be redeemed for a civilization which needed some insurance of its own, at some cost of lying to us about the destination of Faith, just in case.
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Hope is more like worry than confidence is like hope.
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By the pricking: There is the berry; there is the thorn. This contrast helps the sell. But there are also the leaf and the root, and they are what make the berry red, and the thumb too. Pain is memory, and memory projects “me” into the socket of my survival instinct. I bleed. “I” but for it. It is enough to feel the excess of what it really means to be, to be.
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Authoritarians: those who prove your freedom by showing you the limits that they permit you to approach.
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The horizon serves our awe. Primal drums are lower than the cognitive floor. The lower one pounds one’s wedge into the “floor” the deeper one’s seat from which to increase the horizon. But the sax takes you back up these stairs set deep by the drums. That’s the exhilaration of music. The foreground owes it all to the background, but the background looks down on _all_ of the foreground. In preference and recollection, a mutualism of egos.
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The plasticity of terms is only rivaled by that of perspectives. These are like two steel balls tethered by a rubber band, and articulated further by whatever interest is attached to the fingers that toy with them.
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A: I hereby decree that all widows shall receive an allowance for the sake of the education of their children, and their contributions to our great, eventual society.
B: But Sir, you must consider the consequences of …
A: Tut! What consequence could trump the care of our children?
B: Caring for more children, Sir.
(Next day twice the number of fish mongers show up, scabbards on hips, with the forced adjustment to expression, very still, a glare determined by their anticipated rewards for the deaths of their husbands. A gaggle of unkempt children engaging in brinkmanship with total chaos while somewhat understanding the reward behind the pressure of formality to which they must contain themselves.)
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