Every day, upon waking up, he dresses, and he personally made none of his clothes. Yet, for these clothes to be available to him, an enormous amount of work, industry, transportation, and ingenious inventions had to be accomplished worldwide. Then he has breakfast. For the bread he eats to arrive on his table every morning, lands had to be cleared, plowed; iron, steel, wood, stone had to be converted into work tools; all things that each, taken separately, assume an incalculable mass of work put into play, not only in space but in time. This man will send his son to school, to receive an education that presupposes research, many years of prior study.
He goes outside: he finds a paved and lit street. His property is contested: he will find lawyers to defend his rights, judges to maintain them, justice officers to execute the sentence; all things that still presuppose acquired knowledge, hence enlightenment and means of existence.

I am a lead pencil, an ordinary wooden pencil familiar to all boys and girls and adults who can read and write. It is one of the simplest objects in human civilization. And yet not a single person on this earth knows how to produce me.