The Obsolete Man... Chancellor: Youre a bug,Mr.Wordsworth. A crawling insect. An ugly, misformed, little creature, that has no purpose here, no meaning! Wordsworth: I am a human being... Chancellor: Youre a librarian, Mr.Wordsworth. Youre a dealer in books and two cent finds and pamphlets in closed stacks in the musty finds of a language factory that spews meaningless words on an assembly line. WORDS, Mr.WORDSworth. That have no substance, no dimension, like air, like the wind. Like a vacuum, that you make believe have an existence, by scribbling index numbers on little cards. Wordsworth: I dont care. I tell you: I dont care. Im a human being, I exist....and if I speak one thought aloud, that thought lives, even after Im shoveled into my grave. Chancellor: Delusions, Mr.Wordsworth, DELUSIONS!! That you inject into your veins with printers ink, the narcotics you call literature: The Bible, poetry, essays, all kinds, all of it are opiate to make you think you have a strength, when you have no strength at all!!! You are nothing, but spindly limbs and a dream, and The State has no use for your kind!!!! The Twighlight Zone
Posted on: Wed, 30 Jul 2014 00:12:56 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015