Are we worthy of healing, if all we as a species will ever do is squabble and despoil the commons and limp along until something finally kills us?
And no, I don't know that for certain. But you have to admit, even a cursory glance at the history of the world is decently compelling evidence.
Genocide after holy war after mass famine after plague after invasion after enslavement after nearly melting the crust into trinitite, with some occasional kindness thrown in for spice and contrast. Tell me I'm wrong. Genuinely please.
Anyway what I guess I'm saying is definitely don't let me end up with the power to allow the world to be destroyed.
Anyway what I guess I'm saying is ashcans and unobtainable dollars, young men weeping in the armies, old men sobbing in the park.
I think a lot about the fact that few people know who Norman Borlaug, or Dowager Empress Cixi, or Shaka Zulu, or Robert Kaguja, or Abu Ali al Hasan ibn al-Haytham, or Gerhard Domagk are.
No one knows of Karel Raška, either, and we have him to thank for the end of smallpox.
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