One cannot live without being onesided, without choosing, preferring, favoring oneself and one's own, without staking out and defending one's bit of ground. One cannot live without being onesided, but one cannot be much of a philosopher if one is. The philosopher's optics are a synoptics, but life's optics are perspectival.
And so philosophy is enlivened at the approach of decline, death, and doom. The owl of Minerva spreads its wings at dusk.
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