Look carefully at the space around a word. Love is a contract. It seems I left something out. Starting the thought over is wearisome.
Plastic cogs and gears made us wonder, when we considered the waste that is a disposable battery in comparison to brass cogs and springs. Imagine, if you will, a count-down to a rocket-launch that makes use of stately old clockwork. It's all very well to blow smoke up the arses of your children, or your grandchildren, but a collective effort of one of the largest nations of the world cannot be continued in a condition such that failure is lucrative business. Of much more significance than the falling down of a couple of buildings that only went to make a skyline that itself only represented lucrative business that excluded us, was coming to appreciate that nostalgia was very much part of that business.
Now consider the space around a term: what's that in between? Assertions are also contracts. I will reserve another word. I have been wrong about assumptions, but I must yet assume that some things are self-evident.
Tick, tick, tick.
My affinity for a clock with hands was not logical. Is that logically sound?
I'm afraid that while the theory of things disappearing is logically sound, the untieing of feelings means that turning things over in our minds is easier said than done. There's as much reason to be fascinated by a digital watch as by clockwork.
For electrical theory we need to look at orbits for which we may assume the period or the frequency tends to nought or infinity. Personally I'd rather not. But we'll only stop hearing about load factor calculations if we pay attention to things which are inspiring future generations.