What is in your pocketses, my precious? Today, there should be a poem, at least if you live in New York city. Poems eh? When is the last time you read one? Almost forgot that they existed? Well they do. Here's part of one I like (Among School Children, Yeats), where he basically sums up all of philosophy:

Plato thought nature but a spume that plays
Upon a ghostly paradigm of things;
Solider Aristotle played the taws
Upon the bottom of a king of kings;
World-famous golden-thighed Pythagoras
Fingered upon a fiddle-stick or strings
What a star sang and careless Muses heard:
Old clothes upon old sticks to scare a bird.

I like Aristotle's approach, very solid.