Picture: Half page. A bird of paradise on a telephone pole, being pointedly ignored by the crows. It's wearing brass goggles.

Geniuses form connections with things that aren't 'really' there for most people. Their entire essence screams to reduce reality to a handful of elegant equations that are obviously, self-evidently true. The Peerage exists almost entirely to fight this tendency, because once a Genius believes he's figured it out, he's mad. The light eats out the back of his eyes and he'll probably never see straight again.

Stay humble. You're not a revolutionary scientist; you haven't figured it out. You're crazy just like the rest of us.

Fuck Lemuria.