Since man is incapable of reconciling mind and matter, he tends to confer some sort of entity on ideas because he cannot bear the notion that the purely abstract only exists in our brain. "The beauty and harmony of a snowflake" - how sweet. "The butterfly that flutters his wings and causes a hurricane on the other side of the world" - we've been hearing about that damn butterfly for decades, but who has been able to predict a single hurricane? Nobody! Tell me something. Where is the beauty and harmony in cancer? What makes a cell suddenly decide to turn itself into a killer, metastasis and destroy the rest of the cells in a healthy body? Does anybody know? No! Because we'd rather think of snowflakes and butterflies than of pain, war, or that book. Why? Because we need to think that life has meaning, that everything is governed by logic and not by mere chance. If I write 2 then 4 then 6, then we feel good because we know that next comes 8. We can foresee it. We are not in the hands of destiny. Unfortunately, however, this has nothing to do with truth. Don't you agree? This is only fear. Sad... but there you go.
The Oxford Murders
