To think is to stray. To think is to err greatly: who was it who said that?, W. wonders. Well, there's erring and erring. There's straying and straying.
In the end, thought will run you through with its sword, W. says.
Thought is the hangman, your hangman, W. says. Thought has its noose ready, just for you.
His dream of thought, his thought, calling him home, W. says.
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