There is no final number
That can lock down what I'll find,
No clock that sets the slumber
Of the reason in my mind.
I am not here to function
For the value of the herd.
What is, pray tell, the function
Of the highest flying bird?
It's by my depth and measure
That I weigh my own esteem;
I find my finest pleasure
In what's real, not how I seem.
(cf. The Joyful Learning, §116 - §119)
Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Nietzsche