Pythagoras's rules

AN AMEN AR DORA Doris Lynch ARAS PYTHAGORAS'S RULES My interest lies not in right triangles nor in their celebrated diagonals as so many mistakenly assume but in mysticism and the vagaries of diet. “Imbibe no beans and no hearts,” I strongly advised my followers. For this and other more radical thoughts my fellow Samos citizens drove me out. But on Crotone Island, [ found the Greek students eager for new ways of thought, new philosophies. “Be the first to break into a loaf of bread,” I taught them. Those tussles at lunch ınade me proud. So many bearded youths locked elbow to elbow, shoving each other away from the table. Why all this trouble for a round of baked wheat? Because the essence of life pours out in those first puffs of steam. Its yeasty hymen fortifies even eunuchs against all Augean tasks. “Let sparrows nest in your roof,” I suggested also. “For song? For music?” Diogenes with the hare lip pestered. “So while you sleep, those angels will ferry your troubles into the sky, feather your night journeys. A house without sparrows resists all beneficent dreams.” Finally, 1 warned my students, “Never, ever cat the flesh of your own dog.” Not only because of the aforementioned caveat against eating hearts, but because you would devour devotion also, devotions so rooted and true, that it would snuff out your life, sparrows and all. AURA.