The English word school derives from the Greek scholē, meaning “leisure.”
The Latin negotium, meanwhile — a compound of nec (“not”) and ōtium (“leisure”) — was the Roman word for “business.”
Without much in way of etymological gymnastics, then, one finds that business school translates roughly to “not-leisure leisure.”
As to the effect this observation might have on the world, “minimal” is the most likely answer.
I would like to be remembered as one at ease with his futility.
The most (perhaps only?) tolerable sort of person is one not merely aware of but amused by his own infirmities. To proceed under any other impression represents an act either of naivete or hostility.
One’s spirits are rarely lifted by virtue of a child someone else has made.
Major Premise: A tie is like kissing your sister.
Minor Premise: Kissing your sister represents an act of incestual relations.
Conclusion: Tying a football game represents an act of incestual relations.
It’s possible to produce a startlingly accurate psychological portrait of an individual based only on the manner and frequency with which he employs the superlative form of the adjective. It’s possible, I say. Precisely how, though, remains obscure. As in a plurality of cases, the work required to illustrate the hypothesis overwhelms any inclination to do so.
Asked offhandedly by an acquaintance what is my preferred mode of transportation, I answered that it’s walking. But only to a specific destination, I neglected to add. And preferably along a route lined with storefronts and other distractions. And with certain obvious stipulations about the weather.
That I failed to mention these several last caveats necessarily means that my response lacked precision. The other more positive result, however, is that I succeeded in not rendering myself a tremendous and inexhaustible burden.