The problem with apologies is that they’re self-serving babble, a concoction of words. Words are not the truth. They may point to the truth, as a finger to the moon, but they are not themselves what they point to. Love acts. To know a man, to see what he really believes, watch what he does. Or doesn’t do.
The ignorant man is ignorant of the fact that he’s ignorant. The wise man knows that he doesn’t know. And he’s comfortable with that.
The real calamity is not that we die but that we are born. There is no school of truth. We are fated to find out the hard way that life has no opposite.
The next time you’re angry—you know, really fired up—stop dead in your tracks and say these four words with complete conviction: “Right now I’m insane.” The truth will set you free.
Or some other low joint. “Let me tell you how it is, son. Let me tell you how the world works.” Oh boy. First, we cling to our toys, then to our opinions.
Men's Work 