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I ate yesterday with a couple of philosophers:
I enjoyed the taste of every dish that I liked
but to one thing that was served,
I turned up my nose and wouldn't taste.
It was Hominy.
I had tasted that stuff before, way back in
days gone by, and nothing except the very
verge of starvation could make me eat it
again.
Could those philosophers but once understand,
that I loved to know their thoughts of
A philosophical twist and heartily wished
them every good luck in all their expositions,
yet, as for my own life and thought,
I had not a word to say.
Well, And what, one might ask does
turning up noses at corn soaked in
watery ashes
have to do with voicing philosophy?
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