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I now understand the need for faith—pure, blind, fly-in-the-face-of-reason faith—as a small life preserver in the wild and endless sea of a universe ruled by unfeeling laws and totally indifferent to the small, reasoning beings that inhabit it.
“A man of infinite jest. Not one of them funny. A real horse’s ass, Horatio.”
Who alive can say, ‘Thou art no Poet—mayst not tell thy dreams’? Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved, And been well nurtured in his mother tongue.
