One traveling thinker told his stay-at-home-son, “Almost all streets in three dimensional settings are one way; thus, guilt has no guilt.” (He confided to me later that, just in case this message didn’t produce the desired effect, he has left instructions for a card to be sent to his son on the offspring’s nineteenth birthday telling him to “chill out.”)
If our speech did not reflect our correct chemistry, we’d all be on spring break.
At times of real stagnation, there’s always the gambit of the, “Contrived, Controlled Crisis.”
Yesterday I received a letter from a fellow on a not too distant world, who told me that some time back he had taken my idea of “fake it ‘til you make it” so much to heart that only recently had he realized that he was no longer operationally aware of his fakery, to quote him, “I can’t tell any more whether I’m actually faking it or not.” (Now, now, sir, no need to thank me.)
The Revolutionist doesn’t hate the opposition, the established powers, but is in eternal resistance to local conditions – whatever they are – in him.
“Ah,” spake the poet, “There is this one land wherein ‘tis only after action has commenced, that a purpose is placed thereon.” And his Falstaff replied, “Ah, what a strange kingdom that must be, me lord.” And the liege agreed, “How strange indeed.” (I fell wont to tell you that I am not all that convinced of the sincerity of the bard’s final comment…I did want to get this in since it is directly tied to my original purpose in bringing you the brief scene.)