In the end, what is the sound of truth? Waves on a beach, the laugh of a child. Or perhaps there are competing truths. The truth of the mind, the truth of the heart. If all the apples are bruised, then it is the unbruised apple that is bad, the sane man who’s crazy. For what is normal is that upon which nine wise men can agree, leaving the tenth to swing from a hangman’s rope.
第十个人只能上吊自杀。