Indeed I live in the dark ages!
A guileless word is an absurdity.
A smooth forehead betokens
A hard heart. He who laughs
Has not yet heard
The terrible tidings.
Ah, what an age it is
When to speak of trees is almost a crime
For it is a kind of silence about injustice!
And he who walks calmly across the street,
Is he not out of reach of his friends
It is true: I earn my living
But, believe me, it is only an accident
Bertolt Brecht (1898-1956), To Posterity
Unprecedented flows into hedge funds are c
The week on Risk.net, December 9–15 2017Receive this by email