Your Imagination, My Dear Fellow, Is Worth

Geniuses Are Like Ocean Liners: They Should Never Meet.

What On Earth Is Modern Exegesis Up To? Oh, Little Lazy One! Some Red Wine And Up! Off You Go, Brandishing Your Fork, Stripped Of Ophelia's Useless Ornaments, Fire In Your Large Nostrils, Out To Rake The Muck Of Metaphors.

And There Are Loners In Rural Communities Who, At The Equinox, Are Said To Don New Garments And Stroll Down To The Cities, Where Great Beasts Await Them, Fat And Docile.

There Exists A Black Kingdom Which The Eyes Of Man Avoid Because Its Landscape Fails Signally To Flatter Them. This Darkness, Which He Imagines He Can Dispense With In Describing The Light, Is Error With Its Unknown Characteristics. Error Is Certainty's Constant Companion. Error Is The Corollary Of Evidence. And Anything Said About Truth May Equally Well Be Said About Error: The Delusion Will Be No Greater.

As If One Could Do What One Wanted With One's Own Body!