If, by one side, hope is supreme stupidity, “the policy of the poor,” the “weed that eats all the other better plants” — paraphrasing Machado de Assis, — by the other side, hope is virtuous, indispensable, so that, abstaining from it, life easily appears unbearable to us. So, and then? What to decide? What to make of this holy hootch? Drink it or not? Of course, each of us should sip the amount one want most — treating abstinence and gluttony, as always, to point out who the imbeciles are.
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