I am keeping a secret by stuffing it inside a philsophical imperative. The nomenclature for this is tricky: ethics is only a partial embarcation as the secret both must and must not be revealed. These are the things I think as the day draws down. We must tell each other what we think. We must abjure honesty for the sake of the social contract. The funny man inside me, the one who reads books, who grins decidedly and without manners, he’s laughing himself to the floor. He’s down there now with Gregor Samsa and Philoctetes–figures of such loneliness even mathematics breaks out in sobs just to think of them. Laughter with so many broken teeth. Oh Franz, we live in such a decadent age. Just a clear word…
Planet of the Blind 