Sunday, August 8, 2010

Untimely Meditations 2

A world without argument is a world without truth. (July 2008)

A life is a work of art, it is the masterpiece of the soul who lives it. (July 2008)

The ideal individual is one who always seeks to improve herself. The ideal society is the society consisting of such individuals. (July 2008)

Where science is silent, one ought to pass through with caution. Where philosophy is silent, one ought to pass through with fearful respect. Where religion is noisy, one ought to go away from. (August 2008)

Of all the ways of acknowledging the ineffability of things, there is none more powerful than humor. (August 2008)

The person who does not appreciate the beauties of a secular society has no right to to them.

It is unfortunate that those who know more speak with greater caution while those who know less speak with rabid certainty. (August 2008)

Thinking is the mind dancing. (August 2008)

When we lose the ability to laugh at our selves, we lose ourselves. (August 2008)

If a book has not even one line that disturbed you, then you have wasted your time reading it. (May 2008)


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Quezon City, Philippines
Pecier Carpena Decierdo is a male specimen of the primate species homo sapiens. According to Pecier, one of his main goals in life is the justification of his species’ name. Close proximity to his most preferred carbon based life form, Rose Anne, causes Pecier’s brain to become saturated with phenylalanine, and being with the said Rose Anne is also known to bring about attacks of involuntary spasms called “laughter” in Pecier. Aside from Rose Anne, the subjects “philosophy”, “science” and “literature” are some of the other things that fire up his libido. He has so far survived twenty-two roundtrips aboard his home planet and he has no intentions of quitting soon.

Venerable Verses

The cloud-clapp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

And like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind: we are stuff

As dreams are made on; and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep.

-William Shakespeare, The Tempest-

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