With your kind indulgence, I will precede to opinionate about life and its living.

I will assume that man, the individual, made up of two halves of a whole: One half the physical self, the other the intellect. And what connects one to the other and makes them function are words. And when it comes to words the mind is a regular chatterbox. Unless it suffered some debilitating trauma the mind never quiets.

Tune in at any time, night or day, its airwaves are crackling with commands, questions, random thoughts, jingles, anything, but silence. Even when it tires, it won’t relent. It becomes aware of its attempt to slow down, and instructs itself – in words – to resume its chattering, pondering, visualizing, and dreaming.

Rose Ridnor
December 23, 1993