An intellectual is someone who collects thoughts, the way a stamp collector might collect stamps. The important thing about thoughts is that they become emotionally transformative, and if they fail in that, they are developmentally useless. Certainly, they may allow you to build outer things–which indeed cannot be built without them–but never inside.
As collectors, intellectuals are neither the engineers nor prophets they both aspire and claim to be. They are a sort of vocal virus, preying upon the insipidity and neediness of human beings, and sharing only, in the end, their inability to create, to process, to transform, and ultimately to be.
Even though I have many thoughts flowing through me which I could share, I am going to circle them back in, with I think the accurate hope that once I am complete, what needs to flow out will do so as needed, accurately and spontaneously.