“The purpose of science is to provide humanity with stronger, more robust raisins and snack mix ingredients.”
My father determined early on that you could spell all sorts of unpleasant words by typing certain sequences of numbers into digital display calculators and then turning them upside down to view. That's not why he got the grant money.
He got the grant money – the money that sustained him and his family in a small, entrance-less barn yard outbuilding – for positing that one could predict the future by caring too much.
Excessive politeness and mindfulness of the needs of others – helping them off the ground when their cane gives way, hugging their home appliances without being asked – can open up, Dad would say, “the vast, featureless void of tomorrow's unplanned mood shifts and rationalizations.”
“It can all be justified with a hammer. Nearly anything can.”