
Daffodils growing in a raspberry bush:
fragile beauty in a cage of thorns;
a weed among sweet berries…
What are people made of?
What are people made of?
Pictures and words,
Hopes and hurts,
That’s what people are made of.
What are people made of?
What are people made of?
Clothes and skin,
Mind and machine,
That’s what people are made of.
What are people made of?
What are people made of?
Cultures and schemes,
Mirrors and dreams,
That’s what people are made of.
Every right comes with an attendant responsibility. People who don’t understand it never grow up. Nations that don’t incorporate it into their cultures decay and deteriorate.
A display case is the worst kind of cage. It locks one in without affording privacy.
Fame and glory –
a house of cards, built on our dreams;
as the dreams metamorphose with new generations,
the foundation is lost,
the eternal glory that seemed immutable becomes muted,
as it slowly fades into a dusty reflection,
into self-indulgent nostalgia for a gilded illusion,
slightly embarrassing but precious, as an old teddy bear…
Rest in peace and good riddance.
Congenital stupidity is nothing to be ashamed of, it is not a character flaw, it is a part of the characteristics one is dealt in life, like one’s race and sex and hair colour. On the other hand, wilful stupidity – the conscious refusal to think, to consider alternative ideas, to imagine the lives of others who are different from oneself – is a crime against humanity.