Je vais t'aimer sans cesse

Je vais t'aimer sans cesse

Je vais t'aimer avec beaucoup de tendresse

I was about to go on and on in French, waxing poetic and romantic about a love that went nowhere and eventually died on the vine, oops, in my heart. But that would be too silly, though that would be a good practice for me to exercise my verbal prowess in French. When I told the motherfuckers that I could read novels in French and Spanish, most of them wouldn't believe me. They thought, like them, I lied in order to impress the gullible. In a year or two, I will be able read novels written in German. I would be already doing that now if I were not stretching myself too thin in writing and studying Philosophy in earnest, among other projects. Once I understand German well enough, that would open doors to Germanic languages. Wittgenstein learned Danish so he could read Kierkegaard. When he lived in Norway contemplating about logic and philosophy, he studied Norwegian. A curiosity and a flair for languages are reliable indicatiors of intelligence whereas most dumb asses just stick with their mother tongue and end up being not even good atit. But if you remark about their pathetic level of linguistic fluency, instead of using that humiliating experience as a spur to better themselves, the motherfuckers would jump up and down like fucking monkeys in the throes of having an epilepsy and coming up with excuses. I already told you, stupid motherfuckers reply on excuses to go through life, real humans drive themselves relentlessly to self-improvement