If you want to get from A to B, but you plan for C

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..you will get C.

In other words, ask stupid questions, you get stupid answers. 

Either that, or hit ’em with “Who is John Galt?”, “Chicken or the egg?”. . . “What is love?” — “I don’t know.”

Never fails, never hurts, always safe.

“They used to rush through here, and it was wonderful to watch, it was the hurry of men who knew where they were going and were eager to get there. Now they’re hurrying because they are afraid. It’s not a purpose that drives them, it’s fear. They’re not going anywhere, they’re escaping. And I don’t think they know what it is that they want to escape. They don’t look at one another. They jerk when brushed against. They smile too much, but it’s an ugly kind of smiling: it’s not joy, it’s pleading. I don’t know what it is that’s happening to the world. Oh, well, who is John Galt?”

“I don’t like that empty piece of slang. What does it mean? Where did it come from?”

“Nobody knows.”

“Why do people keep saying it? Nobody seems to explain just what it stands for, yet they all use it as if they knew the meaning.”

“Why does it disturb you?”

“I don’t like what they seem to mean when they say it.”

“I don’t either.”

It’s not so much as the answers we give or get, but the questions we ask. A question can exist without an answer. But there would be no need for the latter without the former.


*Greta Garbo standoff sigh*


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