a simple quote

A quote worthy of posting: It is up to you what it means.

The sciences, letters, and arts spread garlands of flowers over the iron chains with which mankind is burdened, stifle in them the sense of original liberty for which they seemed to have been born, make them love slavery and turn them into what is called civilized peoples.

A friend of mine sent me this last night, or perhaps the night before. I had to ask him who said it. Rousseau, he told me. I should have known that. It speaks to masses and holds too many truths near to us all. I suppose I said something to him to prompt the gesture, which was very much needed at the time.

We suffer alone and occasionally find some poor soul to pick up the remains after others have had their fun and discarded the beautiful pieces to the vultures for breakfast at dawn. Those are friends to either extreme. And we welcome them not always with open arms, but perhaps a half-cocked smile or a brew or commonalities that which seem too hard to come by.

In different forms we relish this life or detest it or survive it or in too many cases, take it for granted. Time. The one thing we can never retrieve. Once spent is spent forever. One should be careful as to how one spends it before that one becomes road kill on busy highways, scattered amongst the gravel with no regard. If you're big enough to pose a threat, someone might scoop the remnants into a bucket or to the side of the road, the 21-gun salute to faceless creatures who have run out of precious time. Rarely remembered.

Make a mark. Make memories. Make quotes. Make love. Make apologies. Make a song. Make amends. Make a move. Make a statement. Make art. Whatever makes you. Time is running out.