The mediocre man never says empty speeches, he repeats himself forever. His admiration is imprudent, his enthusiasms are fleeting. He only exclaims: “I had anticipated it”, or “I have read about it on books.” He would never say at the break of dawn of wise men still ignored: ‘here is the glory and the future, this person knows more than me.’

The mediocre man may even have talent, but intuition is sealed. He can learn, but not predict or share his knowledge, sometimes he admits some ideas but it does not follow in his latest applications on life, the lessons are presented to him for different terms, which he no longer recognizes and just rejects it as they were not a truth. If the word exaggeration did not exist, the mediocre man would invent it.

The mediocre man may have esteem for virtuous and talented people, but he mocks and he has fear and dread of the saints and brilliant men. He thinks they are exaggerated or inferior before his Narcissistic Syndrome sense.

The man who loves is never mediocre. The truly mediocre man likes a bit of everything, but he never gets marveled about anything with the fervor of his heart.  He hates the warmth that comes from the kindness, the beliefs of others and the faith of humanity.

The mediocre man has only one passion: hatred of beauty. Every statement seems to him so insolent because he rejects and excludes all the opposite opinions. He pretends to say something or say nothing at all.

The mediocre man shows to people the parts known to himself as a superior man reveals to people the art that is unknown to them. The superior man falls to the bottom of us, he makes our thoughts visual and he becomes closer to us than ourselves. He puts joy in us and at the same time makes us better. As someone who awaken us to go to see the sunrise. As the mediocre man leaves us where we are, he inspires us in a dead calm, which is not cool.

The superior man wakes us up to a love of being and reminds us to be constantly aware of our nothingness and our roles in our society.