A New Geometry

Only the ultra-common could truly hate a dead man.  (I don’t suppose any of you expect me to carry this any deeper into the unchartered interior.)

Back in the City I once read this, “The moment a man begins to ask himself the ‘meaning of life’ he is on the inalterable road to sadness and depression.”  I hardly know WHAT to say.

The Real Revolutionist knows that only the truly powerful can keep a secret.

The People do periodically display a belief that life “could be measured,” but they forever lack the resolve to discover the necessary, new geometry.  (Potential without execution, of course, remains but a dead man without a cause.)

Anytime you feel disturbingly despondent, serious, or excited, just remember, even the President doesn’t know all the words to “Louie Louie.”

J.