Tempestade

Put yourself into the position of a dog. A dog is responsive, shows intuition, looks at us with eyes behind which there is intelligence of a sort, and yet a dog must not understand most of the things it sees people doing. It must have no idea how they invented, say, the internal-combustion engine. So maybe what we need to do is imagine that we’re dogs and that there are realms that go beyond our understanding.

[…]

The mystery of being is a permanent mystery, at least given the present state of the human brain.

I remember my mother telling me that, when she was a little girl in Catholic school, the nuns used to hit her left hand every time she wrote with it. Nowadays, if a teacher did that, she’d probably be arrested for child abuse. The optimist in me wants to believe sexuality will eventually become like handwriting: there’s no right or wrong way to do it. We’re all just wired differently.

It’s also worth noting that, when you first meet someone, you never bother to ask if he’s right - or left-handed.

After all: does it really matter to anyone other than the person holding the pen?