“The foolishness of men who care, and the wisdom of those who do not. Both opposing the last— the single distrust of all who are foolish in the beginning, in the deafness of the latter, the ones that fill themselves concretely, as if a dignity could be ignored, of hatred. For the first can not draw themselves together as the last is in foolishness. And yet as they do, the first only can thrive as the last does, until it does not, they lose their own foolishness, depending all their hope, on the second. Embraced as the first branches from them, in a circle, perfect, yet ripping the very fabric apart, piece by piece, second, by second, everlasting in misery.”
—Me
