A universe capable of giving birth to many such accidents is-- blind or not-- a good world to live in, a promising universe.

Babies are unreasonable; they expect far too much of existence. Each new generation that comes takes one look at the world, thinks wildly, "Is this all they've done to it?" and bursts into tears.

The artistic impulse seems not to wish to produce finished work. It certainly deserts us half-way, after the idea is born; and if we go on, it is labor.

There is an art of reading, as well as an art of thinking, and an art of writing.

When eras die, their legacies Are left to strange police. Professors in New England guard The glory that was Greece.

We talk of our mastery of nature, which sounds very grand; but the fact is we respectfully adapt ourselves, first, to her ways.

If your parents didn't have any children, there's a good chance that you won't have any.