If I had to lose one of my senses, I would lose the sixth sense of inference, or drawing conclusions. This
sense allows one to understand unspoken messages communicated by body
language and the dangers inherent in scenarios like falling asteroids
and law enforcement. No longer would I need to worry about such things;
no longer would fear plague my now-numb consciousness. Indeed, I would
be free to act as I will. "Darn the consequences" would be my motto; and
on my tombstone, written shortly after my imminent death, would read
the words, "He lived so cautiously; he died so carelessly."
I read part of a poem recently by one of my favorite poets. It reads: I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage The linnet born within the cage That never knew the summer woods. I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time Unfetter'd by the sense of crime To whom a conscience never wakes. Nor what may call itself as bles't The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er befall I feel it, when I sorrow most 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. At base, Tennyson contrasted a life of risk, and consequent pain, with one of security. He sides conclusively with the life of risk, and says he fails to envy those who have faced no hardship. I agree with him; and, for good or ill, his words are just as relevant today as they were in the nineteenth century. Like then, there are those today who choose to live their lives with as little risk as...
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