My Memories Of Them Had

I Hate Nostalgia, It's Laziness With Prettier Accessories.

What I Warn You To Remember Is That I Am A Detective. Our Relationship With Truth Is Fundamental But Cracked, Refracting Confusingly Like Fragmented Glass. It Is The Core Of Our Careers, The Endgame Of Every Move We Make, And We Pursue It With Strategies Painstakingly Constructed Of Lies And Concealment And Every Variation On Deception.

Now That's A Concept That's Always Fascinated Me: The Real World. Only A Very Specific Subset Of People Use The Term, Have You Noticed? To Me, It Seems Self-evident That Everyone Lives In The Real World - We All Breathe Real Oxygen, Eat Real Food, The Earth Under Our Feet Feels Equally Solid To All Of Us. But Clearly These People Have A Far More Tightly Circumscribed Definition Of Reality, One That I Find Deeply Mysterious, And An Almost Pathologically Intense Need To Bring Others Into Line With That Definition.

I Am Not Good At Noticing When I'm Happy, Except In Retrospect.

People Need A Moral Code, To Help Them Make Decisions. All This Bio-yogurt Virtue And Financial Self-righteousness Are Just Filling The Gap In The Market. But The Problem Is That It's All Backwards. It's Not That You Do The Right Thing And Hope It Pays Off; The Morally Right Thing Is By Definition The Thing That Gives The Biggest Payoff.