The rest of my life (as a 39 year old) I want to reflect on what life is.

Is there not a certain satisfaction in the fact that natural limits are set to the life of the individual, so that at the conclusion it may appear as a work of art?

I regard class differences as contrary to justice and, in the last resort, based on force.

The thinking that got us to where we are is not the thinking that will get us to where we want to be.

Time does not exist - we invented it

One picture is worth a thousand words

Life isn't worth living, unless it is lived for someone else.