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nor custom stale her infinite variety

I am a glutton for variety. This is cool, since it drives me to like speaking to all kinds of people, and to being able to speak passably to them about almost anything among the things they love.

But there is a pressing possibility that my gluttony will rob me of my chances at both lasting happiness and a substantive contribution to Thought. (Via making me inconstant, overfamiliar, procrastinating, and general enslaved to diminishing marginal returns.)