It’s over…

"You could destroy all the other Harvard buildings and, with Widener left standing, still have a university." G.L. Kittredge

If the above is true, do I live in infinity?

I have always wondered this. Is the night sky beyond... farther than what man can comprehend?

Kafka's only problem far as I can tell, was his reluctance to resign.

With every writer, there is the fact that they're inherently doomed to obscurity. Whether it be today, or tomorrow. This moment, or next century. They will rise, and they will fall. For the world is destined to forget us all.

After writing 30 books, l've become completely unrelatable.

When I was young, I used to believe that intelligence was everything. That anything could be overcome with enough thinking, enough effort, and enough hard work.

Too much, or too little always proves destructive to an organism overtime.

My intellect has become obese. Too large, too copious to handle. Crushing from the outside in, it's suffocating. For its gravity is too strong, a powerful implosion of force increasingly compressing inward.

All you need is 5 minutes a day. If you can find a way to write for just 5 minutes every single day, you’ll begin forming a bubble of thought.

What school does to crush a persons creativity is called, “flooding.”

Because the pen, commands.

Within every organization, policies are written, doctrines are crafted, mandates are created, and orders are executed. Without the written word, the sword is useless. For its power is deemed null and void without clear direction.

When it comes to writing, working out is heavily integrated into the process. At the minimum, I'll cut out time to go at least twice a week. Why?

Well, because health is wealth. Meaning that if I fall ill, my writing productivity will take a substantial hit. Something of which is an absolute no, no, if I want to continue pushing my ideas out into the world.

I got the idea about a week ago to write a book called, “My Life as Time,” wherein Space, Time, Mass, Light alongside several other abstractions talk to one another and discuss/demonstrate how time dilation works. So far, I’ve managed to complete chapter one. Which basically personifies time and mass within the singularity of a blackhole.

Artificial intelligence is the ability for computer systems to independently develop strong frameworks, knowledge bases, and ideas whose complexity surpasses the understanding of human experts in a singular or multitude of fields. However, what does this mean exactly?

“The higher you climb, the harder it gets.”

At this point in my life, strategy has begun to fail me. I’ve fallen for traps, ambiguous legal snares, and institutional sieges.

It happened, they finally got me. Sitting here, no beer, full of fear…

In my little cubicle, scurrying to and from the bathroom. Acting like I’m making a difference, changing things, going somewhere…

Shifting right, then shifting left, the chains slapped metal. Crashing the cabin as the giant crates held firm. A hum from hell filled the cabin as the pilots threw the plane into a nosedive.