We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library, whose walls are covered to the ceiling with books in many different languages. The child knows that someone must have written those books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the the languages in which they are written. The child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books, a mysterious order, which it does not comprehend but only dimly suspects.

It is a precarious undertaking to say anything reliable about aims and intentions.

artificial intellegance is no match for natural stupidity

One scientific epoch ended and another began with James Clerk Maxwell.

You can't solve problems with the same thinking that caused them.

Anyone can repeat a technical explanation they read in a text-book or blog post.

One must console oneself with the thought that time has a sieve through which most of these important things run into the ocean of oblivion and what remains after this selection is often still trite and bad.