I was a puzzle in your sick life but will never be a piece anymore
Not nearly as morbid right now as the title would suggest, but it seems an appropriate lyric to steal right now.
I’m stuck with an image in my head: people spend their lives, concentrating and focusing on a subject, drawing straight lines and connections, building a fairly complete but miniscule section of an incomprehensibly large puzzle. They know exactly what they’re looking at when they are done, but have no clue what the larger image is; nothing even approaching understanding of the big picture. And then those who build incomplete sections, scattered across the board but perhaps in place, leaving this world with sketchy images (at best) but a fairly good guess at what the finished product would look like.
Who is better off: the jack of all trades, or the master of one? The man who is set in his opinions and beliefs and “knowledge” of what the world is and isn’t, or the man who is open to new and changing ideas? Which would you rather have: a complete small section of the puzzle, or a sketch of the final image?
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