There is something patently insane about all the typewriters sleeping with all the beautiful plumbing in the beautiful office buildings -and all the people sleeping in the slums.
Too much overcharges Nature, and turns more into disease than nourishment. ‘Tis thought and digestion which makes books serviceable, and give health and vigor to the mind.
We speak erroneously of “artificial” materials, “synthetics”, and so forth. The basis for this erroneous terminology is the notion that Nature has made certain things which we call natural, and everything else is “man-made”, ergo artificial.
Doing the right things for the wrong reasons is typical of humanity. Precession – not conscious planning – provides a productive outcome for misguided political and military campaigns.
I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am. I know that I am not a category. I am not a thing – a noun. I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process – an integral function of the universe.
We are most probably here for local information-gathering and local-Universe problem-solving in support of the integrity of eternally regenerative Universe.
The most important part about tomorrow is not the technology or the automation, but that man is going to come into entirely new relationships with his fellow men.
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