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Consciousness, it seemed, formed a deadly trap, in that one could enter it, but never leave.
when the imitator is perfect, so must be the imitation, and the semblance becomes the truth, the pretense a reality!
No – protested the Adviser – Trurl wanted to compromise and undo it by creating the illusion of a code where none existed, while that poor fellow Crucifax, Lord knows, was innocent, and his confession was wholly the invention of the experts at Headquarters, who possessed no little skill in the art of encouraging official cooperation, not to mention interrogation machinery that had a power of several thousand kilowhacks.
for only he who has sense will take advice that makes sense.
He who must be what he is, may curse his fate, but cannot change it; on the other hand, he who can transform himself has no one in the world but himself to blame for his failings, no one but himself to hold responsible for his dissatisfaction.
