“You talk when you cease to be at peace
With your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the
solitude of your heart you live in your lips,
And sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking
Is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a
cage of words may unfold its wings but cannot fly.”
Someone thought of Charles Babbage:
I feel immense respect for creative genius that feels compelled to visualize and explore the dark crevices of the defining pillars of history. It’s after all informative of where we come from and also don’t come from.