What do you think: is that really Elizabeth II writing to say that she is not dead, that Charles has packed her off to a desert island so that he might become king, and that, having no access to the royal funds, she begs me to send her three hundred dollars for a ticket back to Britain? Or is there, perhaps, still a chance that it is written in her name by a Nigerian uncle-billionaire who wishes to leave me his entire fortune but needs money for the notary?
At the close of the Strugatskys' "Roadside Picnic" the Golden Sphere is asked for this: "Happiness for everybody, free, and let nobody go away unsatisfied!" I do not promise to leave no one aggrieved, but the digest really does come free. So, here is the
Frederic Leighton. “Daedalus and Icarus”, 1869 Daedalus warns his son not to climb too high: the heat of the sun may melt the wax, but Icarus is already gazing into the distance, and the lamentations of a foolish old man interest him not in the least
