![]() But we can be nothing except what we are. ![]() Neither the gardener nor I know for certain that we're eternally, universally right. Or so I argue: for, after all, the universe is undecidable. And never yield to the cynicism that says, everyone else is so good that I can afford to be a little evil." Here I wager that, given power over physics and the trust of absolute freedom, people will choose to build and protect a gentle kingdom ringed in spears. That wandering refugee chose to make a stand, spend their power to say: "Here I prove myself right. But now that they have invested themself in you, you are incredibly, uniquely special. It was the gardener that chose you from the dead. Why should you care for it? Tend it? Guard it? That which cannot claim and hold existence is not real. This is the true and only divination, a game whose losers are not just forgotten but are never born at all. Those who cannot claim and hold existence do not deserve it. Do you mourn the uncreated? Do you grieve for those who were never born in a nation that never developed around an ideology no one ever imagined on a continent that never formed? No!Īnd from that self-evident truth, you must raise your eyes to the ultimate revelation: those who cannot sustain their own claim to existence belong to the same moral category as those who have never existed at all.Įxistence is the first and truest proof of the right to exist. Those who exist have moral worth, and those who do not have none. Sorrow cannot survive death, and it cannot precede birth. Your shoemaker philosopher was right, and it matters more than anything.
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