I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance, said Socrates.
The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes, said Czeslaw Milosz.
Your ignorance is more scandalous than my promiscuity, said the Riot Grrrls.
In the morning, for what it’s worth, I open my eyes.
The sword looks foolish beside the dagger.
Asymmetry, too, has its own gorgeous order.
(Not writing, but typing.)