To quote Faulkner, "philosophers and fools" alike have purported that the "I" is the encapsulating whole of existence; else, the world is Truth and the "I" - illusion. Ideas are shared and exchanged to the extent that the idea of "self" is preposterous. And emotions and gestures are results of arbitrary conditioning - a form of mimicry.

The bulk of philosophy is a question of definition, and curiosity has us chasing infinity. (Note: perpetual, elusive tasks eschew boredom). But reality is not abstract; those who demand an answer complicate it. Man adulterates his perception of phenomena by mixing in meaning (go ask Goethe). Knowledge is dissolution, whereby the solution of the self distills dregs of dismal and deplorable demeanor.

Nothing is more subjective than definition itself, and interpretation is synonymous with beautification and bastardization both. This renders all things real in reality decidedly not. Facts and figments are validly interchangeable, in that the opposite of wrong is right. (Then a mistake is nothing more than your own fault).

Without the abandon of reason the tangential becomes the logical and brilliance a state of knowing not. Sensation - nothing is as pure. But time makes a myth of purity. Falsely, too, the intellect tries to differentiate what the body already understands. (Besides, the making of sense is a silly process by which we are de-spiritualized).

Instruction inhibits intuition, and to teach one to learn to overlook outside interpretation is a paradox. Learning is nothing unique, because the influence of another's influence confounds it the more it confuses it. (Often, such neglected understandings haunt those who don't recall that experience is empirical).

Chiasmus: our deceptions limit us as much as our limitations deceive us. (If furthering humanity involves the likes of etiquette and platitudes, then please do not include me). You are lucky if you're funny; and if you're imaginative you're the cleverest. You are afraid if you're full of hope.