One Sunday, on the way to the opera, my wife Mary and I were walking through
Boston Common, where we overheard a young student say to another:
‘There are no perfect insulators.’
His friend immediately replied:
‘Likewise, there are no perfect conductors.’
I asked my wife if she thought BRAIN, the seat of UNRESTRICTED LOVE, such as
the love of a child, or true devotion to a lifetime companion, was a perfect
conductor. She wanted to think so, but wasn’t sure.
What about CULTURE? For example, GREAT ART, MUSIC, LITERATURE, FOOD,
ARCHITECTURE? I said. She added, or GREAT IDEAS? Memes transferred from one
person to another. I said I believe so. Yes.
I asked about NATURE, i.e. the embodiment of TRUTH. Author David Mitchell
says: 'Truth is singular. Its versions are mistruths.' What about NATURE as a
perfect conductor? Yes. She thought so.
One thing we were sure about, however, is a perfect insulator. For multicelled
creatures on earth, DEATH alone is the eternal lifelessness, the final
silencing of earthly consciousness.
The Chicken and the Egg 