For a century now philosophy has been lying on its deathbead, but it cannot die because it has not fulfilled its task. Its farewell thus has been tortuously drawn out. Where it has not foundered in the mere administration of thoughts, it plods on in glittering agony, realizing what it forgot to say during its lifetime. Faced with its demise, it would like now to be honest and reveal its last secret. It confesses: "The great themes, they were evasions and half-truths. Those futile, beautiful, soaring flights--God, Universe, Theory, Praxis, Subject, Object, Body, Spirit, Meaning, Nothingness--all that is nothing. they are nouns for young people, for outsiders, clerics, sociologists. "Words, words--nouns. They need only to open their wings, and millennia fall out of their flight." (G. Benn, Epilog und lyrisches Ich)

Peter Sloterdijk, Critique of Cynical Reason, Preface

Never argue with a fool - they will drag you down
to their level, then beat you with experience.