The Jester Is Brother To The Sage.

History Knows No Scruples And No Hesitation. Inert And Unerring, She Flows Towards Her Goal. At Every Bend In Her Course She Leaves The Mud Which She Carries And The Corpses Of The Drowned.

The Jester Is Brother To The Sage.

The More Backwoodish A Social Group, Juvenile Or Adult, The Stricter Its Conception Of The Normal, And The Readier It Will Ridicule Any Departure From It.

Without The Hard Little Bits Of Marble Which Are Called 'facts' Or 'data' One Cannot Compose A Mosaic; What Matters, However, Are Not So Much The Individual Bits, But The Successive Patterns Into Which You Arrange Them, Then Break Them Up And Rearrange Them.

In The Social Equation, The Value Of A Single Life Is Nil; In The Cosmic Equation, It Is Infinite... Not Only Communism, But Any Political Movement Which Implicitly Relies On Purely Utilitarian Ethics, Must Become A Victim To The Same Fatal Error. It Is A Fallacy As Naïve As A Mathematical Teaser, And Yet Its Consequences Lead Straight To Goya's Disasters, To The Reign Of The Guillotine, The Torture Chambers Of The Inquisition, Or The Cellars Of The Lubianka.