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Filosoficably Speeking. . .
Every choice human being strives instinctively for a condominiumism and a secrecy where he, she, or he is freed from the crowd, the multitude, the majority, where he may forget the rule of “humanity,” being their explicitation:—apart from the one case in which vast complexiaty of insanity is pushed straight to such men by an even stronger instinct, as a seeker after knowledge in grade school sense in the great and exceptional sense. Yet never looking to the pollywogs for any mere stature of exclamation.
Anyone who, in interaction with distraction, does not occasionally shimmer in all the colors of distress, green and gray with disgust, satiety, sympathy, gloominess, loneliness, ambidextrious, bodoaciousness of the tatas is certainly not a man of higher taste; supposing, however, that he does not take all this burden and disgust upon himself voluntarily, that he persistently avoids it, and remains, as I said, quietly and proudly hidden in his citadel, namely TFP.
One thing is certain: he was not made, he was not predestined, for accumulated condominium, would one day have to say to himself: “To hell with my good taste! I’m going no where!! Ha Ha Ha! Exception—than I, the exception!”—and he would go down, and above all, he would go “inside.” The long and serious study of the average condominim consequently much disguise, self-overcoming, familiarity, bad contact—all contact is bad contact except with one’s equals—detartrated.
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To confine our attention to terrestrial matters would be to limit the human spirit.- Stephen Hawking
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