As I begin to pronounce in old English, the freedom I now enjoy is new.

What irony is It that to be well read was the antidote for feeling blue.

It’s my proclamation that “nothing” is always the best answer if I’m asking “what shall I do?”

True intelligence is total abandonment for need of appearing to possess anything true.

Obsession with utility leads to a total forsaking of any desire to debate.  

Desires to be perceived as right or superior are negative symptoms of the ego that freedom negates.

There’s immense time in the day, what is one to do with all thy hath?

Gym, read, write. Gym + Read + Write, what will be the sum of all thy’s math?