DOCTOR
DICK
I never know if I should continue with
anger or hope - each of them seem
equally meaningless. My life to date
has failed miserably. I am sitting in
a lakeside park, here, in a place I
never really liked, to read of Edgar
Allen Poe. It seems so unreal how
little we know of everything, and -
as I think back - I realize, just as well,
how wrongly we have been taught all
of our lives. That which passes for
education has been mostly wrong.
The vast part of all that is has
been missed.
-
I can only live by being the most
outrageous character I can be, and
fuck the rest. For those who do not
get it, it is a lack of imagination that
is their problem. An unexamined life
is not worth living? I read that on a
bathroom wall someplace once,
mouthing the words to myself.
-
It was St. Augustine of Hippo - I
guess before he was a saint, unless
he already know that - who first
astounded the world by reading silently
to himself without moving his lips. From
Alexandria's library it was never before
seen, and people considered it the most
personal and immediate act of solitariness
they had ever before seen. It signified an
inner life they had never before known. It
signified another world to come. Well,
he showed them, didn't he?
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