On my walk to school each day I pass a building that has been, and probably will continue to be, perpetually under construction. All summer there has been no one working on this thing. It's just four floors of bricks.
So Friday, as I am walking down the street next to it, a large piece of lumber, maybe a 8 foot long 2x4, flies off the top floor and lands in the middle of the road about 20 feet in front of me. This wouldn't have been so bad if it had not been followed by a giant wooden door. Apparently work has begun, and as we all know, the first rule of construction is to throw large dangerous objects from high places onto the middle of the street.
I wonder how much time I could have gotten off from work if I had been hit. I should have just fallen down and pretended.
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It is so easy for people to have sympathy with suffering. It is so difficult for them to have sympathy with thought. Indeed, so little do ordinary people understand what thought really is, that they seem to imagine that, when they have said that a theory is dangerous, they have pronounced its condemnation, whereas it is only such theories that have any true intellectual value. An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
Oscar Wilde
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It is so easy for people to have sympathy with suffering. It is so difficult for them to have sympathy with thought. Indeed, so little do ordinary people understand what thought really is, that they seem to imagine that, when they have said that a theory is dangerous, they have pronounced its condemnation, whereas it is only such theories that have any true intellectual value. An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
Oscar Wilde
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