Madness: a form of love

THUCYDIDES, II c. 460 - c. 400 B.C. Diotorus spoke at the assembly where the Athenaian's were re=considering their decree to kill all the men of Mytilene. He urged them to stay the executions. Cleon spoke first, and urged against it, at the same time attacking the habit of re-considerations which he said merely allowed speaker's to display their vanity. (III 38.2 -3, 27.3 -4). Diototus thus began by defending the propriety of the practice of re=deliberation about the city's affairs, which he called "the greatest things."  He warns that the city is harmed when speakers accuse one another (for instance, of being corrupted by moneY) because then fear deprives them of councelors. Speakers who make such accusations should not be permitted to speak. In a 'moderate city', no unsuccessful speakers should be dishonored or feel so. The Athenians, he says boldly, are so envious that they would reject what is manfestly the best advice for the city if they surspecte...

She is a bit eccentric, and a nice-natured lady, Dreaming of space or time ships, And goblins with seventyeight different toes. But, when all is finally done and snipped, The party line she tows. At predetermined intervals she visits me, like a woman's monthly woes. Making sure that the child inside of me, often bleeds and never grows. "You've had your chance, to burst buds in freedom", so her teacher says. "This is for your own prudent protection, for the rest of all your days." It seems to her a wise precaution, to nip the peaks and tuck the lows. Because its at an expert's inspection, somebody who much better knows - Officious guardians of convention, who society's primitive fear allays. It is for us a most difficult sentence, because ours are not their ways. Each time she arrives, how I try and I scheme to prove myself pristinely sane. Yet all she probably sees is that chequered history, the hideous, unrelenting stain. Her luke...

If life is a joke, and death is the punchline,  Man is the gag of Being; An ape who fancies himself a God,  Bringing hilarity to the latter... Longing for eternity, slave to infirmity... Just when he thinks he's got it all sorted... KABOOM!  (....With a silk handkerchief tied around his gruesome appetites...) * "Man is the poem of Being" - Martin Heidegger  

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Us jews may be loaded, but we're still hobos at heart.

My mind is like a garden. If you go down deep enough there's nothing but dirt and a solid abyss of immovable rock, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth growing some pretty flowers above the earth while I'm there too. Just like breeds of flowers, they are ancient and ineffectual as the hills and still they have their season in which to scatter them with the color, smoothness and vibrancy of petals, each one trembling with early morning dew and the risen beams of the new dawn.

Our sole duty is to feel the inklings of intoxication with power coming on and then eschew it.