Wystarczy jedno zdanie by zwazyc nam humor, prawda? Mozg pamieta zle przezycia lepiej od milych. Jednak odkryto, ze wyzsze funkcjie mozgu moga modyfikowac te nizsze. Skupiajac sie mozemy zapanowac nad ta stronniczoscia mozgu, zminimalizowac wplyw negatywnych doznan. Innymi slowy -pomijajac depresje klimatyczna, bycie nieszczesliwym to swiadomy wybor. 

Pamiec krotkotrwala np imie poderwanej dziewczyny, przechowywana jest w hipocampie. 
Hipocamp przenosi wspomnienia do kory, gdzie moga ulec zapomnieniu jesli do nich niewracamy. Ilekroc wracamy do wspomnienia - staje sie ono silniejsze, jesli ignorujemy - mozemy je stracic na zawsze. 

Przeszlosc nas przesladuje. Grzechy mlodosci, stare choroby i urazy, zostaja z nami do konca zycia. 
Pomimo olbrzymiej mocy obliczeniowej, mozg jest niezwykle delikatny. Pozbawiony czaszki jest bezbronna galaretka. Kazde wstrzasniecie, moze doprowadzic do powaznych chorob dziesieciolecia puzniej - (jak parkinson). Nadmiar alkocholu tez nieodwracalnie niszczy mozg. 

Czy powinnismy wiec zyc w kokonach? Nie narazac sie na urazy fizyczne i emocjonalne? A moze w zyciu, nalezy przezwyciezac rany? I bedac swiadomym ograniczen, cieszyc sie swoimi talentami. :D

From the dusty mesa her looming shadow grows
Hidden in the branches of the poison creosote.

She twines her spines up slowly towards the boiling sun,
And when I touched her skin, my fingers ran with blood.

In the hushing dusk, under a swollen silver moon,
I came walking with the wind to watch the cactus bloom.

A strange hunger haunted me; the looming shadows danced.
I fell down to the thorny brush and felt a trembling hand.

When the last light warms the rocks and rattlesnakes unfold,
Mountain cats will come to drag away your bones.

And rise with me forever across the silent sand,
And the stars will be your eyes and the wind will be my hands.

There is no such thing, at this date of the world's history, in America, as an independent press. You know it and I know it.

There is not one of you who dares to write your honest opinions, and if you did, you know beforehand that it would never appear in print. I am paid weekly for keeping my honest opinion out of the paper I am connected with. Others of you are paid similar salaries for similar things, and any of you who would be so foolish as to write honest opinions would be out on the streets looking for another job. If I allowed my honest opinions to appear in one issue of my paper, before twenty-four hours my occupation would be gone.

The business of the journalists is to destroy the truth, to lie outright, to pervert, to vilify, to fawn at the feet of mammon, and to sell his country and his race for his daily bread. You know it and I know it, and what folly is this toasting an independent press?

We are the tools and vassals of rich men behind the scenes. We are the jumping jacks, they pull the strings and we dance. Our talents, our possibilities and our lives are all the property of other men. We are intellectual prostitutes. 

- John Swinton , 1880