We can be absolutely certain only about things we do not understand.
There would be no society if living together depended upon understanding each other.
Somewhere between the Angels and the French lies the rest of humanity.
The game of history is usually played by the best and the worst over the heads of the majority in the middle.
The wisdom of others remains dull till it is writ over with our own blood. We are essentially apart from the world; it bursts into our consciousness only when it sinks its teeth and nails into us.
There is in most passions a shrinking away from ourselves. The passionate pursuer has all the earmarks of a fugitive.