Knowledge is most forgeable
by those who are incorrigible;
and progress is dependent on
rejection of what seemed foregone
conclusions. To be error free
is worthy of the bourgeoisie,
but true patricians of the mind
leave such a goal so far behind
that they believe it doesn’t matter
that sometimes they have rotten data:
correcting it is far too cruel,
except for an egregious fool.
Inspired by an e-mail by Jeremy Rosen, who responded to a correction I made of his data by declaring, appropriately enough:
Nothing to be done, we both think the other is incorrigible. That’s why were friends! ! ! !
8/19/08
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem