in which salt writes

The truth is that every day I resign myself more to the opinion that all human activity is utopian. We dedicate ourselves to the pursuit of knowledge without ever succeeding in knowing anything fully. Our attempts at justice invariably result in some act of villainy. We believe that we have loved and then realize that in fact we got no further than promising to do so. Do not take these words as moral satire, as if intended to criticize my colleagues because they fail to do what they set out to. My intention is precisely the opposite; rather than blame them for their failure I want to suggest that none of these things can be done, that they are by their nature impossible, that they can go no further than mere intentions, vain endeavours, and failed ventures. Nature has endowed each animal with a program of actions that can be performed satisfactorily without difficulty. This is why it is so rare for an animal to be sad. Only among the higher species – the dog or the horse – can any sign of something like sadness be detected, and it is precisely in such moments that they seem closest to us, most human...Our fate – our privilege and honour – is never to achieve what we set out to and which is pure intention, a living utopia. We set out always for failure, and even before entering the battle we already bear the wound upon our brow.