One of our major problems is that we perpetually believe we live in the time of most progressiveness, of most accuracy, of most truth.

We’ll never achieve that time, because it is a fiction. Too variably defined. Something divine would have to come down and end any question of accuracy, because we can’t, as so varying and eclectic a species, and being the only authority upon which to judge anything, pretend to offer an unquestionable definition of such sought after abstractions.

War comes when we pretend that we can. Because we are all wrong and we are all right and we all pretend this isn’t the case.

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