People who say, “I want one.”
Arriving at the cafe, one can choose either to wait in line at the counter or to claim a table by setting down one’s personal belongings. If the cafe is particularly crowded — like on a weekend morning, for example — the latter option might be the only means to guaranteeing a seat. Some patrons, however, will certainly regard this course of action as rude. “Customers who have ordered already ought to have priority,” they contend. Others patrons will regard it as wholly logical. “Why order,” they ask, “if the possibility of having no seat is very real?” A third group regards it as rude and does it anyway. These people, we say, are “conflicted.”
“Let’s disagree to disagree.”
“Oh… mint as in money.”
I wanna know what love is. / I want your more attractive friend to show me.
“I wanna beta-test your sexuality, girl.”
Smokey Robinson loves you when you’re cruisin’ together.
I love you an alright amount then,
but I love you moreso when we’re eating Indian food.
It is difficult, he thinks, to remember that there are certain people in the world not only whom he admires, but by whom he himself is admired.
Were he intelligent in a particular way, he would set aside a portion of each day to remember these certain people — perhaps even to correspond with them and perhaps, while corresponding with them, to note his admiration for them.
Unfortunately, he’s not intelligent in this particular way.
Seneca (or maybe it was Pliny) argues that traveling is frequently undertaken with the wrong motive. The traveler’s ambition (which is impossible) is to travel away from himself, claims Seneca. Or perhaps Pliny.
“The medieval areas of old European cities are more beautiful than anything in America,” he thought to himself — although not in a full sentence, likely, given what is known of human cognition.