Yesterday, it could’ve been, I read in the Big Town Gazette about the “Son of a well-known official, born retarded, and who died 19 years later at the age of 23.” Now, even for the City that’s stretching things a bit, don’t you think?
I believe I’ll un-tacit another silent precept that has periodically been spotted hovering around the area where the bushes meet the ditch. I’ll just repeat it for you once, then I think we should let it fall back into soundless surveillance: “Controlled violence is a noble art.” Shhhhh….
You know, if Goethe were alive today, he’d have a thing or two to say.
In the City, serious Scientists say they “Frame no hypothesis not based on observed phenomena,” but the Revolutionist, realizing that the People themselves observe little to nothing, knows that any old idea he can come up with that seems to explain some aspect of Life is about as good as one that doesn’t. (Best keep THAT one on the “q.t.” also.)
The Revolutionist knows that certain kinds of necessary knowledge and experience can come only when one has lost one’s balance.