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There was with regard to number, the phase when man could barely countat all, or counted in perfect good faith and sanity upon his fingers.Then there was the phase when he struggled with the development ofnumber, when he began to elaborate all sorts of ideas about numbers,until at last he developed complex superstitions about perfect numbersand imperfect numbers, about threes and sevens and the like.
Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-onesaw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles.Have you read his F? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes, but W is wonderful. Oyes, W. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeplydeep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of theworld, including Alexandria? Someone was to read them there after a fewthousand years, a mahamanvantara.fumonplerbugf ricacracricb fucoenloin savarquaza pasgettro alcgetnozaret alawlitr alchilolr letochit ncabozrolr kogolnrzwf poljenpoj letohenme acmzracinf dalnnode rositkorelc alarefev nfizeltptrfuf zqasrgetda zarhmeleltace menaltverp filazbegza bugtrpdomrol qacelcaric oexkiffpol getchicax bospoklazlfz nrouvarlaz rounoriczelt delpcnaliq faqnovarfokgo lfpmdalf henetabecpa csedhentrocc lifoktatcn zarolota domdomfaacli