Faerie dust.

There is perhaps nothing quite so damaging as the realisation that what one does is mere sophistry. That the knowledge one has acquired through tertiary study and labour is but knowledge of an invented song and dance. At that, it bears note that the song and dance is not one that beautifies the world, enriching the enjoyment and imagination, but one born of strife and dissent. A dance none wish to learn. A song better left unsung. Save for us. We sprinkle the faerie dust and make believe we have an important task. Gandhi had it right. Our true form is a reaper, a reaper bathed in pixie dust.

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