The article reflects on the nature of philosophical thought and the isolation that accompanies profound ideas. It implicitly laments the difficulty of sharing such thoughts, as the act of expressing can diminish their essence. The author imagines a reunion with a deceased friend, expressing a desire to create a modest meal that embodies shared conviction and connection. The piece ends on a note of humility, suggesting that sometimes, the best approach to experiences is simply to observe and accept them without over-explanation or expectation of recurrence.
The philosophers I love believed in things they didn't want to convert to; the isolation of the thought, of the shattering idea, lonelied them into a truth that would tremble too much were it carried from desk to window.
What we don't say is bright as metal bells. And were my friend still alive, I'd want to make a meal for him, something not all that skilled, but not all that terrible.
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