This Continent, An Open Palm

Children, Taught Either Years Beneath Their Intelligence Or Miles Wide Of Relevance To It, Or Both: Their Intelligence Becomes Hopelessly Bewildered, Drawn Off Its Centers, Bored, Or Atrophied.

The Goal Is The Same: Life Itself; And The Price Is The Same; Life Itself.

And No Matter What, There's Not One Thing In This World *or* The Next That We Can Do Or Hope Or Guess At Or Wish Or Pray That Can Change It Or Help It One Iota. Because Whatever Is, Is. That's All. And All There Is Now Is To Be Ready For It, Strong Enough For It, Whatever It May Be. That's All. That's All That Matters. It's All That Matters Because It's All That's Possible.

It Is Probably Well On The Conservative Side To Estimate That During The Past Ten To Fifteen Years The Camera Has Destroyed A Thousand Pairs Of Eyes, Corrupted Ten Thousand, And Seriously Deceived A Hundred Thousand, For Every One Pair That It Has Opened, And Taught.

God Doesn't Believe In The Easy Way.