Arameus wrote:The ancient arts were entrenched in secret and mystery.
Mystery revealed, a light breaks through an old, thick window, and half the room is revealed.
In shadow, the darkness conspired of itself to engulf the light.
The light, however, constant from the burning sun, only covered to us by cloud and earthly structure, content in it's eternity, neither conspires nor lazes, it is engulfed instead by peace.
The standards are a forming mountain, tectonic forces driving together new shapes, like iron forged to steel, what once was empty becomes grand. But the art, the horizon rolling, like a tear drop, remains forever peaceful. Content in it's simplicity it knows only truth. The art of C programming in it's ancient splendor knows only peace. Thus, what discontent is imported into its serenity is not a reflection of C. But, looking into the oceans of time, you see only yourself in all your imperfection at last. The truth, too, is imperfect.
Do not stray into the dark arts.
Be like the mountain.
Be like C.
msbachman wrote:Thanks for the advice, Gandalf.
Monica wrote:Gandolf's advice above will no longer make you upset.
Goatboy wrote:It's Gandalf*
Get it right.
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