A mind is a simulation that simulates itself.
Intelligence is perhaps but a malady, -a beautiful malady; the oysters's pearl.
Philosophic Nights in Paris,: Being Selections from Promenades Philosophiques
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Intelligence is perhaps but a malady, -a beautiful malady; the oysters's pearl.
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We are therefore blessed with powerful minds yet at the same time cursed, not only to die, but to know that we must.
Any time someone gives you drugs, the purpose is to subdue. Always. Whether it is from a dealer, a friend, your mother/brother/sister/son, or your government--especially your government--the intention is to subdue, and always to feed another motive. Why? Because in getting high, your power and your intellect are blunted. Can the motive ever be in your best interests? Governments notoriously use sex, drink, and drugs to subdue their people. Notoriously. And we're falling for it.
Let me be cursed, let me be base and vile, but let me also kiss the hem of that garment in which my God is clothed; let me be following the devil at the same time, but still I am also your son, Lord, and I love you, and I feel a joy without which the world cannot stand and be.
Our actions are the results of our intentions and our intelligence.
The line of head is strong, but the line of heart is weak. And most importantly, the line of life is short. The stars do not seem to be right.