It was that sort of sleep in which you wake every hour and think to yourself that
you have not been sleeping at all; you can remember dreams that are like reflections, daytime thinking slightly warped.
That's libertarians for you — anarchists who want police protection from their slaves.
You can't get any movement larger than five people without including at least one fucking idiot.
Economics was like psychology, a pseudoscience trying to hide that fact with intense theoretical hyperelaboration. And gross domestic product was one of those unfortunate measurement concepts, like inches or the British thermal unit, that ought to have been retired long before.
Beauty is power and elegance, right action, form fitting function, intelligence, and reasonability. And very often expressed in curves.
We all have secret lives. The life of excretion; the world of inappropriate sexual fantasies; our real hopes, our terror of death; our experience of shame; the world of pain; and our dreams. No one else knows these lives. Consciousness is solitary. Each person lives in that bubble universe that rests under the skull, alone.