El orgullo cada día me parece peor consejero. En esto, una vez más y como en casi todo, coincido plenamente con Melville que pone las siguientes palabras en boca de Ishmael:
What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about - however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way- either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.
Si ya cantaban los macarras de The Pop Group:
We are all prostitutes
Un spinoziano en Llodio.
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