So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
— “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd from the album Wish You Were Here.
(This is what I internally sing to myself whenever someone tells me they think they know what their values are. The part about trades has a hint of self-deception-induced susceptibility to Dutch books, at least in one pragmatic interpretation, though of course the lyrics are ambiguous on many levels.)
— “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd from the album Wish You Were Here.
(This is what I internally sing to myself whenever someone tells me they think they know what their values are. The part about trades has a hint of self-deception-induced susceptibility to Dutch books, at least in one pragmatic interpretation, though of course the lyrics are ambiguous on many levels.)