Words Are The Supreme Objects. They Are

I Get Very Tense Working, So I Often Have To Get Up And Wander Around The House. It Is Very Bad On My Stomach. I Have To Be Mad To Be Working Well Anyway, And Then I Am Mad About The Way Things Are Going On The Page In Addition. My Ulcer Flourishes And I Have To Chew Lots Of Pills. When My Work Is Going Well, I Am Usually Sort Of Sick.

The World Of Conceptualized Ideas Is Quite Wonderful, Even When It's - Like Aristotle's Physics - An Outmoded Book. The Physics Is Not True. But The Reasoning Is Dazzling.

Philosophy Has A Great Sort Of Appeal In Terms Of An Artistic Or Aesthetic Organization Of Concepts. It's A Conceptual Art.

The Word Itself Has Another Color. It’s Not A Word With Any Resonance, Although The E Was Once Pronounced. There Is Only The Bump Now Between B And L, The Relief At The End, The Whew. It Hasn’t The Sly Turn Which Crimson Takes Halfway Through, Yellow’s Deceptive Jelly, Or The Rolled-down Sound In Brown. It Hasn’t Violet’s Rapid Sexual Shudder Or Like A Rough Road The Irregularity Of Ultramarine, The Low Puddle In Mauve Like A Pancake Covered In Cream, The Disapproving Purse To Pink, The Assertive Brevity Of Red, The Whine Of Green.

I Hate Ideologies Of All Kinds, So I Avoid Jargon. I've Done Enough Philosophy To Know That Some Specialized Terms Are Really Needed. I Don't Complain When Kant Does It. Or When Aristotle Introduces All Kinds Of New Words; He Needed Them. But These Other People [modern Philosophers] Are Just Obfuscating. It Just Makes Me Annoyed.