[b]Douglas Adams
Here, for whatever reason, is the world. And here it stays. With me on it.[/b]
For whatever reason that is too.
Even a manically depressed robot is better to talk to than nobody.
And so, instead, I come here.
It is a rare mind indeed that can render the hitherto non-existent blindingly obvious. The cry ‘I could have thought of that’ is a very popular and misleading one, for the fact is that they didn’t, and a very significant and revealing fact it is too.
You know what I’m thinking now, don’t you?
So the hours are pretty good then? he resumed.
The Vogon stared down at him as sluggish thoughts moiled around in the murky depths.
Yeah, he said, but now you come to mention it, most of the actual minutes are pretty lousy.
And then the days, weeks, months and years.
In the old days, writers used to sit in front of a typewriter and stare out of the window. Nowadays, because of the marvels of convergent technology, the thing you type on and the window you stare out of are now the same thing.
They don’t call it progress for nothing.
But the reason I call myself by my childhood name is to remind myself that a scientist must also be absolutely like a child. If he sees a thing, he must say that he sees it, whether it was what he thought he was going to see or not. See first, think later, then test. But always see first. Otherwise you will only see what you were expecting.
Next up: what philosophers see.